As I've said, freedom is really an illusion. Anytime we think we have a real choice, it just means we haven't seen the shotgun aimed at our navel.

But as I have noticed on more than one occaision, life itself is unfair, and there is no complaint department, so we might as well accept things the way they happen, clean up the mess, and move on.

In its own way the kiss had been an act of murder.

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

For my part, my interest in Paris had faded away completely long ago when I learned that it was in France.

I think that's nice, and if I could have feelings at all I would have them for Deb.

Money to me had always been merely something the sheep used to show each other how wonderful they were.