“I'm not trying to turn you into a bourgeois, Naomi. If the bed is too luxurious, we can do it on the floor.”

“I don't mind if someone thinks I'm a sell out. I go to bed happy knowing I do what I do and I'm not doing anything for reasons of money, and if I were trying to pick up chicks, I'm doing a horrible job. And if I wanted to drive awesome cars, I'm doing a really bad job there too.”

“We may need to focus here.'
'Right. Yes. OK. Turn around.'
'Are you going to throw something at me?'
'What? No, I'm getting out of bed.”

“Why do you lie" I ask her.
"To block the truth."
Fair enough.
Naomi goes on. "Where did we get it in our heads that we need truth all the time? Sometimes lies are nice, you know? You don't have to know the truth all the time. It's too exhausting.”

“… and you drink a little too much and try a little too hard. And you go home to a cold bed and think, 'That was fine'. And your life is a long line of fine.”

“Sad fancies do we then affect,
In luxury of disrespect
To our own prodigal excess
Of too familiar happiness.”

“Revolution in Love’. Can you tell me what you mean by that? Do you want free love as against bourgeois marriage, or monogamy as against bourgeois promiscuity?”

“Dear Diary,
Oh, it's all too much to explain and you wouldn't believe it anyway. I'm going to bed.
Bonnie”

“I'm doing one of three things: I'm writing. I'm staring out the window. Or I'm writhing on the floor.”

“I got God on my side.
I'm just trying to survive.
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love?
Fear's a powerful thing;
It can turn your heart black you can trust.
It'll take your God filled soul
And fill it with devils and dust”