Our story opens where countless stories have ended in the last twenty-six years: with an idiot -- in this case, my brother, Shaun -- deciding it would be a good idea to go out and poke a zombie with a stick to see what happens.

A proper lady should be able to smile pretty, wear sequins like she means it, and kick a man's ass nine ways from Sunday while wearing stiletto heels. If she can't do that much, she's not trying hard enough.

I've seen that mixture of resignation and hopelessness before; its usually in my mirror.

We are a nation equally afraid of gathering together and being alone.

It is what it is. Isn't that how these things always go? They are what they are. We just get to cope.

Life's more fun when you take the chance that it might end.

The people who have the power want you scared. They want you walking around paralyzed by the notion that you could die at any moment.