I want people to react to my work, to think, to question, to challenge, to cry and laugh and feel.

Drink your coffee -- people in Africa are sleeping.

He scooped up Victoria practically before she hit the ground, well within the five-second rule. If she'd been a potato chip, he could have still eaten her. Not something I particularly wanted to contemplate.

And why is it the best looking ones are always straight?

And yet there was something about his strength, his arrogance, his sheer size that got under my skin. He probably couldn't even spell vanilla. He was probably selfish in the sack. Probably selfish and greedy and...unsophisticated. And hung like a horse.

Not as intolerable as being dead, in my opinion, but I'm very fond of me. I would miss me a lot.

I don't know if real courage lies in storming barricades or simply not denying the truth.