So now what? What happens when words fail us?

We can't be as good as we'd want to, so the question then becomes, how do we cope with our own badness?

I'm very good at the past. It's the present I can't understand.

I've seen men like you in Doris Day films, but I never thought they existed in real life...The men who can't commit, who can't say 'I love you' even when they want to, who start to cough and sputter and change the subject. But here you are. A living, breathing specimen. Incredible.

I guess I should have forgotten about it ages ago, but forgetting isn't something I'm very good at.

I'm human. That's how humans spend their time, doing shitty things.

You're not allowed to say anything about books because they're books, and books are, you know, God.