“You’re mine, angel, and don’t you forget it. Your fights are my fights. What if something bad had happened today? It was bad enough when i thought your ghost was haunting me; i don’t think i can handle the real thing.”

Call me patch. I mean it. Call me.

I already know my size. I don’t need reminding.

I couldn’t stand here, hanging on, when the very thing i held disappeared more with each passing day.

The higher up, the harder the fall.

I called vee. “how are you doing?” i asked. “good. How are you?” “good.” silence. “okay,” vee said in a rush, “i am still totally freaked out. You?” “totally.

I take that back. If hank wants to shoot scott, he has my blessing.

We all know you’re beautiful, scott.

He tried to pull me against him, and i bit him on the lip. He licked his lip with the tip of his tongue. ‘did you just bite me?

But if i hadn’t fallen, i wouldn’t have met you.

Are you keeping anything else from me? Im keeping a lot of things from you. Like? Like the way i feel about being locked up in here with you. You have no idea what you do to me.

Patch was in my life for a reason. I needed him. We were two halves of the same whole.

His were the kind of eyes that held secrets. The kind that lied without flinching. The kind that once you looked into them, it was hard to break away.

Rollover minutes dont work with curfews.

You’re going to have to drive off the road and park behind thoses bushes,” i instructed vee. Vee leaned forward, peering into the darkness. “is that a ditch between me and the bushes ?” “it’s not very deep. Trust me, we’ll clear it.” “looks deep to me. This is a neon we’re talking about, not a hummer.

Did you hear something, nora? Vee asked. I thought i heard something. You definitely heard something, i agreed. Could that be a dog fart i heard? Vee asked me.

Or, if you decide you want to sleep at my place, on opposite sides of my bedroom with a do not cross line drawn down the middle, i’ll do it. I won’t like it, but i’ll do it.

I project myself out through the glasses and across the street, a ghost in the morning sunlight, torn with disembodied lust.

I have blisters on my feet from dancing alone with your ghost.

Derek (Jeter) told me the ghosts would show up eventually!

I like to trace the ghosts of your fingers on the back of my hand. They read- I don’t know how to hold without you.

Let us honor the Holy Ghost.

Have we forgotten that there is a Holy Ghost, that we must insist upon walking on crutches when we might fly?

In Eastern culture, people see ghosts, people talk about ghosts, it’s just accepted. And in Western culture it’s just not.

Can you harness the power of drugs without them taking over, without turning into a dazed zombie?