Dying makes everyone weaker, subject to painful insight, and not always insight into any kind of special truth - it's just the approaching end that makes people want to believe they are seeing something in the line of a great revelation.

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

And as always seems to happen when I have reached the point where I am ready to take decisive action, everything began to happen at once.

What to wear? I could think of no guidelines on what we were wearing this season to a party forced on you to celebrate an unwanted engagement that might turn into a violent confrontation with a vengeful maniac. Clearly brown shoes were out, but beyond that nothing really seemed de rigueur.

And so as much as I can, I care about her, dear Deborah. It's probably not love, but I would rather she were happy.

Anybody can be charming if they don't mind faking it, saying all the stupid, obvious, nauseating things that a conscience keeps most people from saying. Happily, I don't have a conscience. I say them.

No big deal. We all have blood in us, the trick is keeping it inside.