I was born in a place humans call central Africa, in a dense rain forest so beautiful, no crayons could ever do it justice.

Ninety percent of the trouble in this world comes from guys who think they have something to prove.

What's love? Something that lasts a week or a month and that's all you can except? Or is it just that some loves have a short shelf life? You know, like yogurt: after a week or two they go bad. And how do you recognize the other kind of love, the kind that isn't like yogurt? The kind that's more like... I don't know, like peanut butter, that lasts forever and always tastes good?

Everything ends eventually. I guess that's what makes summer so intense, this feeling that it lasts for only a a short while and then it's back to reality.

But hunger, like food, comes in many shapes and colors.

Memories are precious ... they help tell us who we are.

You do not know me, but I am a juvenile delinquent. I do not trust authority figures, I probably will not graduate from high school, and statistics say my present rowdiness and vandalism will likely lead to more serious crimes. I am a dangerous fellow, and I am causing mayhem in this store. [...] There. I have now shamelessly destroyed the symmetry of this shelf, undoing hours of labor by underpaid store employees. If you could see me, you would be frightened.