It feels like we're in a Harry Potter book talking about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

I thought of several alec smart remarks, but you should humor crazy people when you're at their mercy; it's a rule.

Walking your path doesn't mean you don't hurt, it means the pain is worth the progress. Sometimes you have to break something down in order to remake it, and that includes yourself, or it did for me. There were moments when I wept for an easier road, but in the end I would not trade my path for anyone else's. It is mine and the traveling of it has made me who I am, and continues to shape and remold me into the best, happiest, most productive, most playful me, I've ever been.

Anita can speak for herself," Richard said. Jean-Claude's attention flicked back to me. "That is certainly true. But I came to see how the two of you enjoyed the play." "And pigs fly," I said. "You don't believe me?" "Not hardly," I said.

People talk of sorrow as if it is soft, a thing of water and tears. But true sorrow is not soft. True sorrow is a thing of fire, and rock. It burns your heart, crushes your soul under the weight of mountains. It destroys, and even if you keep breathing, keep going, you die.

All men love to talk about themselves, even the ones who are completely buggers.

Maybe they know what I know, that the true way to a man's heart is six inches of metal between his ribs. Sometimes four inches will do the job, but to be really sure, I like to have six.