There are two types of panicking: standing still and not saying a word, and leaping all over the place babbling anything that comes into your head.

This is like a cookie, it tastes like a cookie having sex with a doughnut.

The rinsed foam swirled into one drain that always clogged come October when the maples dropped Canadian propaganda over everything.

I’d ruin any day, all my days, for those long nights with you, and I did.

What happens in a certain place can stain your feelings for that location, just as ink can stain a white sheet. You can wash it, and wash it, and still never forget what has transpired - a word which here means 'happened, and made everybody sad'.

I don't think film is the writer's medium, and so I was interested to see what a director would do with it.

I don't know if you've ever noticed this, but first impressions are often entirely wrong.