A reasonable being might think that he and I could find some common ground; have a cup of coffee and compare our Passengers, exchange trade talk and chitchat about dismemberment techniques. But no: Doakes wanted me dead. And I found it difficult to share his point of view.

It’s like, everything really is two ways, the way we all pretend it is and the way it really is

...being torn apart by far too many loyalties that could not possibly live together in the same brain.

I'm quite sure more people fake an awful lot of everyday human contact. I just fake all of it." --Dexter

I nodded with genuine synthetic sympathy.

Weren't we all crazy in our sleep? What was sleep, after all, but the process by which we dumped our insanity into a dark subconscious pit and came out on the other side ready to eat cereal instead of our neighbor's children?

You're driving me NORMAL!