I'm not sure what we're running from. Nobody. Or the future. Fate. Growing up. Getting old. Picking up the pieces. As if running we won't have to get on with our lives.

“You realize that our mistrust of the future makes it hard to give up the past.”

“I'm the dick that killed Cassie Lynn Wright.”

“I am my own rakish seducer. I do serve as my own surly, brutish bounder.”

“No, it’s not fair, but what makes earth feel like Hell is our expectation that …”