“How do you type it? With your keyboard.”

“Do Mom and Dad know you’re dating a homicidal lunatic? (Madaug)
No, and if you tell them, I’ll superglue your fingertips to your keyboard. (Eric)”

“You are twenty-two years old, trained down to the last pound like a boxer. You do not over-eat, smoke or drink and you work six to eight hours a day at a piano with a special keyboard in which the keys are so hard to press down that when you come to your concert grand at night you seem, literally, to be riding a fleecy cloud, so easy is its keyboard action. Before each concert, of course, you eat nothing at all.”

“It's okay. You aren't my type.
What's your type?
Someone who gets into less trouble.”

“How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand? How do you keep a wave upon the sand?”

“If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?”

“How do you eat your roots?”

“It's not like I idolize this one guy Machiavelli. I idolize that type of thinking where you do whatever's gonna make you achieve your goal.”

“Whoever came up with "hold the shift key for eight seconds to turn on 'your keyboard is buggered' mode" should be shot.”

“What we do attracts to a certain type of people. I don't think age has anything to do with it: either you get into it or you don't. You can be 16 or 60 and you will like us or not depending on your sensibilities.”