People have a habit of inventing fictions they will believe wholeheartedly in order to ignore the truth they cannot accept.

There is a hideous invention called the Dewey Decimal System. And you have to look up your topic in books and newspapers. Pages upon pages upon pages…” Uncle Will frowned. “Didn’t they teach you how to go about research in that school of yours?” “No. But I can recite ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’ while making martinis.” “I weep for the future.” “There’s where the martinis come in.

Brought to you by The Corporation: In your homes and in your pants.

The night's chilly breath tickles up my neck and finds my ear, whispering secrets only the wind knows.

Centuries of fighting, and for what? I say. "Today it ends. I can't live in fear any longer. I've cursed this power. I've both enjoyed and misused it. And I've hidden it away. Now I must try to wield it correctly, to marry it to a purpose and hope that is enough.

I hate high heels. Walking in high heels for eight hours a day should be forbidden by the Geneva Convention.

You set fire to my house, killed my family, and ate my dog. But steal my boyfriend? That's a step too far.