page 62.

"i was starting to see it was all pretty much the same thing. lucy and i had ceased to be distinguishable from everyone else and every day the ground was getting softer, swallowing us up a little bit more. we had each come to realize that no one was going to save our lives, and that if we wanted to save them ourselves, we only had one skill that afforded us any hope at all. writing is a job, a talent, but it's also the place to go in your head. it is the imaginary friend you drink your tea with in the afternoon."

page 38.

"he's insane. everything he says is insane, it's absolutely clear and i'm sure of it, but then he'll say one little thing that is so completely true that it undoes me. the true thing catches you off guard, and then everything starts to unravel, and you think about all the insane things he said and you start to wonder if maybe they were true too and maybe you just didn't want to believe it. that's what he's always telling me anyway, that i didn't believe the rest of it because i couldn't face the truth."