The faster it ran away from me. And I found myself reasoning that perhaps one more beer would unlock the doors of perception.

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

It's always me, isn't it? I'm not really a very nice person, but for some reason it's always me that they come to with their problems.

you can’t use logic on human behavior.

For the first time I could remember, I felt weak, woozy and stupid— like a human-being. Like a very small and helpless human-being.

Our universe is ruled by random whim, inhabited by people who laugh at logic.

Whatever made me the way I am left me hollow, empty inside, unable to feel. It doesn't seem like a big deal. I'm quite sure most people fake an awful lot of everyday human contact. I just fake it all. I fake it very well, and the feelings are never there.