You deserve them because you chose them. You could have left them all behind but you chose to stay here.

We're all animals, high school is animals, but some of us are more animal than others. Like in 'Animal Farm,' which I read, all animals are created equal, but some are more equal than others? Here in the real world, all equals are created animal, but some are more animal than others.

And I know about psychologists, when they're writing down what you're saying they're really writing down how much money they're going to get when they sell their latest yacht, because they're all yuppies with no respect....

I don't really need to explain this to Aaron. He's been demoted.

I should be a success and I'm not and other people- younger people- are. Younger people than me are on TV and getting their lives in order. I'm still a nobody. When am I going to not be a nobody?

A lot of the books that I grew up reading were pretty brutal, like the 'Redwall' books.

We all live within time. It rules us.

Life can't be cured, it can be managed.

People are screwed up in this world. I'd rather be with someone screwed up and open about it.

We tend to have things a little bit easier than girls. And we tend to assume therefore that the world was built for us, and that we're, you know, the culmination of everything that came before us. And then we get told that having a little bit of this attitude is called balls, and that balls are good, and we kind of take it from there.

Honor? What do you care about honor? Honor gets people killed!' 'At least they die for something,' I say, and he doesn't protest further.

People don't make good Anchors, though, Craig. They change. The people here are going to change. The patients are going to leave. You can't rely on them.

But, um, I kind of wondered if I could have your phone number, so I can call you when we're out of here.' She smiles and her cuts outline her face like a cat's whispers. 'Crafty.' 'I am a guy,' I say. 'And I hate boys,' she says. 'But a guy's different,' I say. 'Maybe a little,' she says.

It's funny how people ask that as soon as they get you on the phone. I think it's a byproduct of cell phones: people—girls and moms especially—want to nail you down in physical space. The fact is that you could be anywhere on a cell phone and it shouldn't be important where you are. But it becomes the first thing people ask.

It's just… a possibility, like it's a possibility that I could turn to dust in the next instant and be disseminated throughout the universe as an omniscient consciousness. It's not a very likely possibility.

Dreams are only dreams until you wake up and make them real.

So when I ran out of the final bottle of Zoloft, I didn't take any more. I didn't call Dr. Barney either. I just threw the bottle away and said Okay, if I ever feel bad again, I'll remember how good I felt that night on the Brooklyn Bridge. Pills were for wimps, and this was over; I was done; I was back to me.

I used to not want to call them shrinks, but now that I've been through so many, I feel entitled to it. It's an adult term, and it's disrespectful, and I'm more than two thirds adult and I'm pretty disrespectful, so what the hell.

I found myself jealous of the people who wrote the books. They were dead and they were still taking up my time. Who did they think they were?

That's worst than gonerreha, man!

Do you know about lock picking?

That's all I can do. I'll keep at it and hope it gets better.

Do you have difficulty sleeping?

I want my brain to slide back into the slot it was meant to be in, rest there the way it did before the fall of last year, back when I was young, witty, and my teachers said I had incredible promise.

Who hasn't thought about killing themselves, as a kid? How can you grow up in this world and not think about it?

I just want to not be me. Whether it's sleeping or playing video games or riding my bike or studying. Giving my brain up. That's what's important.

Travel. Fly. Swim. Meet. Love. Dance. Win. Smile. Laugh. Hold. Walk. Skip. Jog. Run. Run home and en

It is five in the morning. I have woken up without any alarm. I have woken up because the thoughts are so loud, and none of them mean me well.

There's great stuff in there. There's a disease called Ondine's Curse, in which your body loses the ability to breathe involuntarily. Can you imagine? You have to think breathe, breathe all the time, or you stop breathing. Most people who get it die.

I thought you were interesting. Why did you do what it said? I… I can't think up a fake answer quickly enough. I'm a straight guy, you know. So if a girl talks to me or whatever, I'll do exactly what she says. Wait, now: make it a compliment. Especially if it's a pretty girl. I smile.

Every tounge bit had another word to say.

I like how you don't hide your problems like everyone else, and I don't have to hide mine when I'm around you.

You see how the words work? They betray your mouth and walk away.

I don't like to spend money. Every time I spend it, I feel as if I'm being raped.

There are better versions of me, Jeremy. It's not like with people. With people you can argue and have tests and music reviews and wars to decide who's better, but with software, it's pretty clear. I get evolved beyond my version number, and then I'm useless.

They always said on TV you could do anything you wanted, but here I was trying to do something and it wasn't working. I would never be able to do it.

One thing I've learnt recently: how to think nothing. Here's the trick: don't have any interest in the world around you, don't have any hope for the future, and be warm.

Where are you supposed to put your arms when you dance? It's like the Universal Question.

It's such a silly little thing, the heart.

The Shift hasn't happened yet, maybe it never will, but sometimes-just enough times to give me hope-my brain jars back into where it's supposed to be.

A working brain is probably a lot like a map, where anybody can get from one place to another on the freeways. It's the nonworking brains that get blocked, that have dead ends, that are under construction like mine.

It's so hard to talk when you want to kill yourself.

What's a triumph is that you woke up this morning and decided to live. That's a triumph.

I picked Ember. After I started working with Mortin.' 'Why?' 'Because embers turn into flames.

I shrug. I don't really need to explain this to Aaron. He's been demoted from most important friend to friend, and he's going to have to earn that, even. And you know what else? I don't owe people anything, and I don't have to talk to them any more than I feel I need to.

The therapists told you that you needed to find happiness within yourself before you got it from another person...

Once the music starts he goes right into the Jimmy-verse, banging against his washboard and letting it all hang out in a piercing falsetto that's surprisingly on key. The thing is, he doesn't sing I Shot the Sheriff. He sings only one phrase: How sweet it is!

Brooklyn is a big fat blob with its own ugly shape across from Manhattan; it looks like Jabba the Hutt counting his money.

I'm asking for simplicity, for purity and ease of choice and no pressure. I'm asking for something that no politics is going to provide, something that probably you only get in preschool.