“Sinead broke in. "The cops need to know what to do with Evan, Amy. What should I tell them?"
"Shoot to kill?" Ian suggested.”

“Men do not know what they do not know, and women should not tell them.”

“You don't know what I'm all about / Like killing cops and reading Kerouac”

“Amy felt her phone vibrate. She held it up. It was from Ian.

DON'T ASK THE PRICE OF ANYTHING. DON'T SMILE. DON'T SAY "DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING CHEAPER?" DON'T

Amy shoved the phone back in her pocket. "Just pretend to be Ian," she told Dan.”

“Don't worry, I don't underrate the cops. But cops can't break a guy's arm to make him talk, and they can't shove his teeth in with the muzzle of a.45 to remind him that you aren't fooling. I do my own leg work, and there are a lot of guys who will tell me what I want to know because they know what I'll do to them if they don't. My staff is strictly ex officio, but very practical.”

“I am not an expert at praying, as you know. But can you please help me? I am in desperate need of help. I don't know what to do. I need an answer. Please tell me what to do…”

“Let's scope the place out," he suggested, heading around the side of the building, "and be careful in the bushes."
"Why?" Amy asked.
"This is South Africa, dude," Dan replied. "Where cobras come from. And not the hot ones, like Ian.”

“So what if I'm smokin' weed onstage and doing what I gotta do? It's not me shooting nobody, stabbing nobody, killing nobody. It's a peaceful gesture and they have to respect that and appreciate that.”

“I do not know if all cops are poets, but I know that all cops carry guns with triggers.”

“I do not need the musing of the philosophers to tell me what I am doing. It would be more interesting to let me know why I am doing it.”