Really now: If you can't get me my newspaper on time, how can you expect me to refrain from killing people?

A man can take only so much. Even a phony man like me.

Feeling - what authentic human fun!

I stood up. It was all too much. I could not even meet my own expectations, and to be asked to deal with all theirs too was suffocating.

Getting yelled at by a furious woman should be treated as a semiformal occasion.

It was always hard work to push through a crowed of reporters with the scent of blood in their nostrils. You might not think so, since on camera they appear to be brain-damaged wimps with severe eating disorders. But put them at a police barricade and a miraculous thing happens...The strength comes from some mysterious place-and somehow, when there is gore on the ground, these anorexic creatures can push their way through anything. Without mussing their hair, too.

Killing makes me feel good.