Who would have ever thought I'd be afraid of a zombie, any kind of zombie? Nicely ironic that.

When you spend all your time worrying that the devil is right behind you, eventually you start seeing him whether he's there or not.

It makes me nervous when you keep answering all my questions with 'I don't know.' " "Me, too," I said.

I enjoy my anger, it’s the only hobby I have.

You take insult where none is intended, but if you will find insult where none is meant, then perhaps I should try harder to insult on purpose.

I turned down Halloween parties every year, where people wanted zombies raised at the stroke of midnight or some such nonsense. The scarier my reputation got, the more people wanted me to come be scary for them. I'd told Bert I could always go and threaten to shoot all the partygoers, that'd be scary. Bert had not been amused. But he had stopped asking me to do parties.

-Please, Anita, go home, and don’t freak. Just go home, and be happy. Be happy, and let everyone around you be happy. Is that so hard? When Jason said it like that, it didn’t seem hard. In fact, it seemed to make a lot of sense, but inside, it felt hard. Inside it felt like the hardest thing in the world. To just let go, and not pick everything to death. To just let go and enjoy what you had. To just let go and not make everybody around you miserable with your own internal dialogue. To just let go and be happy. So simple. So difficult. So terrifying.