Sundays tend to be a day where just I do nothing but visit people. It's kind of like trick-or-treating.

Skinny guys fight till they're burger.

I'm working harder than I have ever worked in my entire life, but what the hell, my life is my job now, and my job is my life and that's the way it should be.

I might be a touch of a sadist and a little bit jejune... but at least I'm not a victim, not any longer. I hope. I hope, therefore I am.

Tyler and me at the edge of the roof, the gun in my mouth, I'm wondering how clean this gun is.

When we die, these are the stories still on our lips. The stories we’ll only tell strangers, someplace private in the padded cell of midnight. These important stories, we rehearse them for years in our head but never tell. These stories are ghosts, bringing people back from the dead. Just for a moment. For a visit. Every story is a ghost.

You can say anything if enough people will listen.