“This is so funny,” said Ellen, noticing the seating arrangement. “Isn’t this funny? Tom, come sit next to Robin. Griffin, sit next to Laura.” I stood up and sat next to Robin while Griffin brought his chair over to Laura. “That’s better,” said Ellen. “Isn’t that better?”

“I am not a finished poem, and I am not the song you’ve turned me into. I am a detached human being, making my way in a world that is constantly trying to push me aside, and you who send me letters and emails and beautiful gifts wouldn’t even recognise me if you saw me walking down the street where I live tomorrowfor I am not a poem. I am tired and worn out and the eyes you would see would not be painted or inspiredbut empty and weary from drinking too much at all timesand I am not the life of your party who sings and has glorious words to speakfor I don’t speak muchat alland my voice is raspy and unsteady from unhealthy living and not much sleep and I only use it when I sing and I always sing too muchor not at alland never when people are around because they expect poems and symphonies and I am nota poembut an elegyat my bestbut unedited and uncut and not a lot of people want to work with me because there’s only so much you can do with an audio take, with the plug-ins and EQs and I was born distorted, disordered, and I’m pretty fine with that,but others are not.”

“Sex parties, alcohol and drugs lost their appeal to Sven after a while. Music never did, in his continual search for that sober connection–intimacy with one person over a long period of time, as opposed to periods of intimacy with a bunch of random faces.”

“I drink to the general joy o’ the whole table.” Macbeth”

“The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you.”

“You know, sometimes I think this is just not it,” he said, his glasses flashing from the early night’s light. He turned toward me in a thoughtful pause.“You know what I mean, Tom?” he asked. “It’s just not.”

“Do you want to achieve something or do you just want to make money?” asked a nearby man in a white shirt to another man in a striped shirt. I waited for the answer as I slowly walked past them. “Why is it an either or question?” the man in the striped shirt finally murmured philosophically under a sip of beer. They both stood there looking at each other in thought.”

“Really, nobody was there?” I asked.“Well, nobody important,” he said, putting his glasses back on and blinking.”

“Telling an introvert to go to a party is like telling a saint to go to Hell.”

“Nobody’s ever asked me to a party before, as a friend. Is that why you dyed your eyebrow, for the party? Should I do mine too?”

“I believe when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade…and try to find someone whose life has given them vodka, and have a party.”

“I’m the girl nobody knows until she commits suicide. Then suddenly everyone had a class with her.”