I sort of got off on making bad guys sweat. Which was not unlike my love of making good guys sweat, just by very different means.

Surely my macking on some guy in an insane asylum wouldn't hurt him. He'd been living with his stalker, for heaven's sake.

I could be irksome when I put my left ventricle into it.

Give it up? Not likely. Besides, what else would I do? I totally should have gone to Hogwart's when I had the chance.

I'm sorry to have to tell you this way, but your mother and I are separating." When I pressed my mouth together, he corrected, "Stepmother. We're just - We're going in different directions." "I don't know what to say, Dad. 'Hurray' just seems wrong.

Life is not about finding yourself. It's mostly about chocolate. T-Shirt

Death comes to those who wait. And to those who don't. So either way.