I lift my arm out of the water. It's a log. Put it back under and it blows up even bigger. People see the log and call it a twig. They yell at me because I can't see what they see. Nobody can explain to me why my eyes work different than theirs. Nobody can make it stop.

Life is for the living. Don't let the fear of striking out let you from keep you from playing the game.

Oppressive bastards, think they own the place. I told them that karma's going to kick their asses.

School libraries are the foundations of our culture – not luxuries.

It's a shame we can't just admit that we failed family living, sell the house, split up the money, and get on with our lives.

So, she tells me, the words dribbling out with the cranberry muffin crumbs, commas dunked in her coffee.

She turns to us, acts surprised to see us, then does the bit with the back of the hand to the forehead. "You're lost!" "You're angry!" "You're in the wrong school!" "You're in the wrong country!" "You're on the wrong planet!