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

And then more quiet, silence so deep it almost drowned out the roar of the night music that pounded away in my secret self.

What do you want a clock for?” “To find out what time it is,” I said. “I think that’s the usual purpose.

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.

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?

Detective, I don't know where the boyfriend is, really," I said. And it was true, considering tide, current, and the habits of marine scavengers. -Dexter

Now I know what it is like to feel like a total idiot.