The future you have, tomorrow, won't be the same future you had, yesterday.

Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known.

Every time we burn a gallon of gas or an acre of rain forest, aren't we killing the future to preserve the present?

I ran. I ran until my muscles burned and my veins pumped battery acid. Then I ran some more.

The only funny part about Colonial Dunsboro is maybe it's too authentic, but for all the wrong reasons. This whole crowd of losers and nutcases who hide out here because they can't make it in the real world, in real jobs — isn't this why we left England in the first place? To establish our own alternate reality. Weren't the Pilgrims pretty much the crackpots of their time? For sure, instead of just wanting to believe something different about God's love, the losers I work with want to find salvation through compulsive behaviors.

I am the cause of all my upsets. I am my worst enemy.

There's a terrible dark joy when the only person who knows all your secrets is finally dead.