Get me outa here. F*ckin' creepy cheerleaders.

A trapped soul waits for redemption. It waits. And waits. For her to take her last breath.

If you want to touch me, Kendall, touch me. Don't hide behind those little girl slaps.

Time to stop crying, time to get her act together and do something. Time to move beyond the pity party.

Maybe you don't have to remember something for it to be true. For it to exist.

Janie: Did you ever sell drugs? Cabel: Yes. Pot. Ninth and tenth grade. I was, uh...rather troubled back then. Janie: Why did you stop? Cabel: Got busted, and Captain made me a better deal. Janie: So you've been a narc since then? Cabel: I cringe at your terminology.

Go force your condescending man-logic on the next house. You can go now.