Never work with children, puppies or bulimics.

I gazed around the room and my eyes stopped dead on a little boy standing in the corner. This was a particularly eerie doll. Life-sized and blond-haired and blue-eyed. I saw a little Nazi boy, pockets probably stuffed with scissors and retractable blades. My grandfather on my mother's side was rumored to be half Jewish, which practically makes me Jerry Seinfeld's brother, and thus wary of blond German boys with their hands out of sight.

Decisions are beautiful. They are the evidence of thought and care. Decisions are the polishing cloths of life.

Life would be fabric-softener, tuna-salad-on-white, PTA-meeting normal.

Red hair is great. It's rare, and therefore superior.

I'm not going to waste my energy looking into the eyes of someone like the guy who blew my legs off trying to find a way to forgive him for doing something that horrible when there are way more productive ways I could be spending my life. You've got to focus on moving on.

You cannot be a prisoner of your past against your will. Because you can only live in the past inside your mind.