The world seemed a bad and terrible place, all its denizens suspect, and I the lamb wandering through the valley of death with a bell around my neck.

I've got libraries in my blood.

My mother finally took me to a child psychologist, who knew exactly what I was, but she just couldn’t accept it and kept trying to tell my folks I was reading their body language and was very observant, so I had good reason to imagine I heard people’s thoughts. Of course, she couldn’t admit I was literally hearing people’s thoughts because that just didn’t fit into her world.

His eyes were still like caves with ghosts dwelling in their depths.

Oh, God, puppy dog eyes. From a six-foot-five ancient Viking vampire.

No blame, no hate - why no communication?

It's a sad comment on humans that none of them are tolerable to one who can read their minds