They like to tell us that it is important to speak the truth, but it has been my experience that real happiness lies in having people tell you what you want to believe, usually not the same thing at all, and if you have to stub your toe on the truth later, so be it.

It’s an odd term, 'girlfriend,' particularly for grown persons. And in practice it provides an even odder concept. Generally speaking, in adults it described a woman, not a girl, who was willing to provide sex, not friendship. In fact, from what I had observed it was quite possible for one to actively dislike one’s girlfriend, although of course true hatred is reserved for marriage.

Nothing else loves me, or ever will. Not even - especially - me. I know what I am and that is not a thing to love.

Weren't we all crazy in our sleep? What was sleep, after all, but the process by which we dumped our insanity into a dark subconscious pit and came out on the other side ready to eat cereal instead of our neighbor's children?

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.

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

I sighed; as comforting as it may be to some of us, sarcasm, like youth, is wasted on the young.