And then more quiet, silence so deep it almost drowned out the roar of the night music that pounded away in my secret self.

It's always me, isn't it? I'm not really a very nice person, but for some reason it's always me that they come to with their problems.

But of course, there's no rest for the wicked, which I certainly am; as I said, no rest for the wicked.

Perhaps because I'll never be one, humans are interesting to me.

When faced with people who have very limited conversational skills and no apparent desire to cultivate any it's always easier to simply go along.

I looked around the store and what I saw was not very encouraging. There were rows and rows of violent toys...aisle after aisle of training devices for recreational slaughter. No wonder our world was such a mean and violent place...if we teach children that killing is fun, can we really be surprised if now and then someone is smart enough to learn?

I think people understand things different when they get older. It’s not a question of getting soft, or seeing things in the gray areas instead of black and white. I really believe I’m just understanding things different. Better.