I could envision it all to clearly: Stuart or Debbie finding the dented door off its hinges, lying in the snow. "She came in, ravaged the boy, stole plastic bags, and ripped off the door in her escape," the police would say in the APB. "Probably making her way to bust her parents out of jail.

I'm Keith," he said, "and you're . . . clearly mad, but what's your name?

Although it was very cold, he wore no coat. I think some English people think coats are for the weak.

We all know what we're doing. Whether we realize it or not.

It took a lot of women like that, a lot of women who said "I'm not going to do what you expect me to do, because you have no idea what I'm capable of. I'm going to get dirty and use tools and live the way I want" to move the world forward.

Irony is the word I forget the meaning of immediately after I look it up, but I kind of feel like I live in a constant state of it.

It's always easier to say good-bye when you know it's just a prelude to hello.