Owen: "Can I just talk to you for a minute? …I know you’ve been through hell, and I know I was part of it, and I know you’re grieving and there’s no magic solution to that but… We used to be friends, and I really really need a friend today. So how about we just go across the street to Joe’s and I’ll buy you a drink. You know? Or I’ll buy you many, many drinks."

Teddy: "Are you done? Are you finished? I hate you. From the moment you decided to put the needs of your hospital over my dead husband, I have hated you. I lie in bed at night alone and I look at the spot where my husband used to sleep, and I actively, with every cell in my body, hate you. I wish you were dead instead of him. I think about all the soldiers, good men who died over there in Iraq and I don’t understand what kind of God would allow you to survive. We are not friends. This is not grief. It will not pass. I hate you. Please, don’t speak to me again unless it’s work related."

A man walks into a bar, sits down, and asks for a glass of water. The bartender takes out a shotgun, and shoots at the man, barely missing him. The man says "thank you", and leaves him a tip.

It’s all about responses. When you keep things bottled up inside, even the harshest response seems appropriate.