She refers to her past as the time before she was "blown away.

I don't understand my feelings. I really don't. I don't understand how I could hate you so much after so much time. How, no matter how much I'd like to not hate you, I hate you even more. It grows.

Love is the only disease that makes you feel better.

You can't make a living as a playwright. You can barely scrape by.

This isn't champagne anymore. We went through the champagne a long time ago. This is serious stuff. The days of champagne are long gone.

I was shot in the wrist when I was a kid. Deliberately.

Ideas emerge from plays, not the other way around.