I had become a perfect fake human, saying the stupid and pointless things that humans say to each other all day long.

I had killed our careful relationship by driving my tongue through its heart and pushing it off a cliff.

I was never more alive than when the Dark Passenger was driving.

IN MY LIFELONG STUDY OF HUMAN BEINGS, I HAVE FOUND that no matter how hard they might try, they have found no way yet to prevent the arrival of Monday morning. And they do try, of course, but Monday always comes, and all the drones have to scuttle back to their dreary workaday lives of meaningless toil and suffering.

...my conscience has the same hard reality as a unicorn.

…a cheerful black shadow reared up behind him as he spoke, thundering a happy challenge to my Dark Passenger, which slid forward and bellowed back.

I was good at being charming, one of my very few vanities.