My hands tend to be full enough dealing with people who hate me for who I am. Concentrate too hard on the millions of people who hate you for what you are and you're likely to turn into one of those unkempt, sloppy dressers who sag beneath the weight of the two hundred political buttons they wear pinned to their coats and knapsacks.

If you aren't cute, you may as well be clever.

If you read someone else's diary, you get what you deserve.

What I really hated, of course, was my mind. There must have been an off switch somewhere, but I was damned if I could find it.

I don't like being left to my own thoughts.

The Korean man nodded, the way you do when you’re a foreigner and understand that someone has finished a sentence.

The trouble with aggressive nonsmokers is that they feel they are doing you a favor by not allowing you to smoke. They seem to think that one day you'll look back and thank them for those precious fifteen seconds they just added to your life. What they don't understand is that those are just fifteen more seconds you can spend hating their guts and plotting revenge.