[T]hese last few days where I've moped around damn near depressed for real, because of people who do not exist. Not really. I can buy them Christmas presents, but there is no way to send them. Sometimes I feel like I should be able to walk into the next room and there they will be, but they won't. These people do not exisit as flesh and blood, but there are different kinds of reality, and there are days when imagination feels very, very real.

Somehow I think Trophy Wives wear more makeup and less cutlery. But hey, I haven't ever met a Trophy Wife, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe they know what I know, that the true way to a man's heart is six inches of metal between his ribs.

Never interrupt when you're winning.

I'd killed him in the end, but revenge only makes things all better in the movies. In real life, once the villain is dead the trauma lives on inside the victims.

There are things that can harm a lot more than physically.

Oh, I'll enjoy myself. I want to make sure you enjoy yourself." "Why?" I said. "If you enjoy yourself, then there's a better chance you'll want to be with me again.

Mercy will get you killed, but sometimes it's all that makes us human.