Happily for me, ninety-nine percent of all human life is spent simply repeating the same old actions, speaking the same tired clichés, moving like a zombie through the same steps of the dance we plodded through yesterday and the day before and the day before. It seems horribly dull and pointless-but it really makes a great deal of sense. After all, if you only have to follow the same path every day, you don't need to think at all. Considering how good humans are at any mental process more complicated than chewing, isn't that the best for everybody?

It revealed a cruelty that really made one wonder if the universe was such a good idea after all.

I don't do my job to catch the bad guys. Why would I want to do that? No, I do my job to make order out of chaos.

I really am guilty, of many somethings, all of them lethal and very enjoyable and technically not quite legal.

I sighed; as comforting as it may be to some of us, sarcasm, like youth, is wasted on the young.

And once again I found myself wondering, as I drifted off to stunned and unbelieving sleep:How do these terrible things always happen to me?

Of course it was a terrible thing, and the world would be a much better place without someone in it who could do that, but did that mean we had to miss lunch?