“You had me at stuffed crust.”
“Here’s looking at you, Pizza Garden.”
“Don’t forget: I’m just a girl, standing in front of a ham and pineapple pizza, asking it to love her.”
“So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna be really hard. We’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want pizza. I want all of the pizza, forever, me and it, every day. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? Thirty years from now, 40 years from now. What’s it look like? If it’s without pizza, go. Go! I lost pizza once, I think I can do it again, if I thought that’s what you really wanted. But don’t you take the easy way out.”
“But for now, let me say — without hope or agenda, just because it’s Christmas and at Christmas you tell the truth — to me, cheese melted on top of bread is perfect. And my wasted heart will love pizza. Until it looks like this [picture of a not-so-tasty looking pizza]. Merry Christmas.”
“I would rather share one container of ranch with you than face all the dippable sauces of this world alone.”
“We’ll always have pepperoni.”
“I love that pizza gets cold when it’s 71 degrees out. I love that it takes me an hour and a half to decide which kind to order. I love that pizza gets a little bubble in the crust when it’s not baked just right. I love that after I spend the day with pizza, I can still smell its sauce on my clothes. And I love that it’s the last food I want to eat before I go to sleep at night. And it’s not because I’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s New Year’s Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with a certain food, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
“I think I’d miss pizza even if we never met.”
“If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you: pizza has bewitched me, body and soul, and I love. . . I love. . . I love pizza. I never wish to be parted from pizza from this day on.”
“I wish I knew how to quit you, pizza.”
“Death cannot stop true pizza. All it can do is delay it for a while.”
“No, I don’t think I will eat pizza, although pizza needs eating badly. That’s what’s wrong with pizza. You should be eaten and often, and by someone who knows how.”
Maybe it means something more – something we can’t yet understand. Maybe
it’s some evidence, some artifact of a higher dimension that we can’t
consciously perceive. I’m drawn across the universe to a pizza I haven’t
seen in a decade that I know is probably eaten. Pizza is the one thing
that we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and
space. Maybe we should trust that, even if we can’t understand it. All
right Cooper? Yes, the tiniest possibility of eating pizza again excites
me. That doesn’t mean I’m wrong