You got to harden yourself. Make, like, a shell around you. But not everyone can do it. If they got nothing to hang on to some of them screw up. They’re not in the game no more.

We was half stupid, a third lucky, and three-quarters ferocious.

Writing is a bit like being a god

Standing in the corridor was a large plastic bin on wheels. He looked inside. Empty tins of dog food. That explained the spaghetti with meat sauce. Oh well, he'd eaten worse.

Tea? Good God, no. It's mud. How the British ever built an empire drinking the filthy stuff is beyond me. And if we carry on drinking it, I've no doubt that the empire won't last much longer. No, a civilized person drinks coffee.

He knew one thing for sure, though. Whatever happened, Matt would have some handy excuse. He'd make up some story or change an old one, find some dumb quote to explain it all.

There was always a slug on the lettuce. This was too good to be true. He had never trusted Jester, and didn't trust David. He wasn't going to let his gaurd down just yet. Being carful had kept him alive this far. There was no reason to stop being careful now.