- Vic: This is love: I secretly believe that I'm unlovable, and then I meet you. You tell me that you love me. I love you because you love me, but that has nothing to do with you; it's about you loving me. I only love you because I imagine myself unlovable, and you, against all odds, love me. And then, and some point, you do something that makes me think that you don't love me, which I'm more ready to believe than you loving me because I'm unlovable, so I stop loving you; I only love you because you love me, and I'm unlovable.
- Kat: What about the other person? The person who loves you?
- Vic: It's the same thing. Everybody is doing the same thing. Everybody thinks they're unlovable, too.
- Kat: I'm not unlovable. I am all lovable. I am the very meaning of lovable.
- Vic: It wasn't the drugs, it wasn't the fuck-up that was killing us. It was the love. It split myself open from the neck to the waist, pried my ribs apart, and he crawled in. I did the same with him. One inside the other inside the other. We we this one person's new organism. It was like we were the mirror -- and then we scraped off the back, the stuff that holds the reflection, and crushed it up and cooked it and shot it. Everything was dead, but the love. And the love was death. And it never made a sound, but it was the loudest thing you ever heard.