At the end of the day, it's a series of individual challenges played out against a team defense. It's a psersonal test every time I step into the batter's box: Can I do better than the last time? And that's why I love it.

Medicine cabinets are dangerous. Those doors, man. They'll just spring on you like a ninja.

We can know what love is. It´s adults who have forgotten, so they cling to their poor substitute and yell at kids who dare to live with real love. Pure Love. Love without compromise or distraction.

Are you stalking me, Mr. Fulton?" The idea both amused and horrified Jazz.

Unreal. I'm feeling nostalgic for something that happened less than twenty-four hours ago. This has got to be a record.

Jazz spent a chunk of the day fantasizing about ways to kill his grandmother, plotting them and planning them in the most excruciating, gruesome detail his imagination would allow. It turned out his imagination allowed quite a bit. He spent the rest of the day convincing himself--over and over--not to do it.

Yes, pain meant life. But the symmetric property did not apply; Life did not mean pain.