We just want to walk. Our legs need to move to keep our minds from collapsing.

I'm not a very happy person," I told him."But sometimes I can trick myself into thinking I am.

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

It was so much easier when I didn't want anything. Not getting what you want can make you cruel.

I cannot think of a single word to describe what we feel. I think we all feel it, to varying degrees. Perhaps in some other language there is a word for 'the world is terribly wrong.' That feeling of stun and unbelief and abandonment and shock and horror and distress.

If you want to be loved, be a lovable. It's a good place to start.

You made me lose my appetite, Boomer." "My mom tells me that all the time. Your family must be just like mine!