I'm a Crank. I'm slowly going crazy. I keep wanting to chew off my own fingers and randomly kill people.

Dude, you tried to slice my you-know-what's off!" Thomas laughed, something that he hadn't done in a long time. He welcomed it happily. "Too bad I didn't. Could've saved the world from future little Minhos.

In other words, a considerable portion of your extraordinary gift comes from the simple fact that you very much want to do good." -Master George

I think Judy Blume, Stephen King, and Dean Koontz are the three authors responsible for my being where I am today. I owe them a lot.

Oh, I'm good. Seriously, after all these years, you'd think I would stop amazing myself. But here I am, still doing it.

Thomas: Is it [my brain] fixed? Brenda: It worked, judging from the fact that you're not trying to kill us anymore.

Thomas hated the people who'd taken this poor, innocent kid form his family. He hated them with a passion he didn't know a human could feel. He wanted them dead, tortured, even. He wanted Chuck to be happy. But happiness had been ripped form their lives. Love had been ripped from their lives.