The kids I talk to are readers, and the craziest, the most dedicated readers you will ever see.
People always say they can't do things, that they're impossible. They just haven't been creative enough.
Every time you try to flirt with her, a puppy dies.
Some nutter's gone and pulled a Jack the Ripper.
I'm Keith," he said, "and you're . . . clearly mad, but what's your name?
Were you playing with Stuart?" she asked. The question was loaded. I was a filthy, filthy woman, and even the five-year-old knew it.