Looks are deceiving," Risa says. "After all, when I first saw you I thought you looked reasonably intelligent.

On a hairpin turn, above the dead forest, on no day in particular, a white Toyota crashed into a black Mercedes, for a moment blending into a blur of gray.

How do you judge the brightness of a light when you’re the source? A spotlight can never see the shadows it casts.

I imagine the center of the Earth must be a crowded place by now, but perhaps it is the spirits of those of us residing there that keep the Earth alive and green.

You may feel a tugging sensation near your ankles.

Happiness is not a state of being. Happiness is a vector, it is movement.

You don't like her, do you?" "Who, me? No, I love her dearly. Evil scheming bitches are my favorite kind of people." (Risa)