A lot of the books that I grew up reading were pretty brutal, like the Redwall books.

The Shift is coming. The Shift has to be coming. Because if you keep living like this you'll die.

It’s tough to get out of bed; I know that myself. You can lie there for an hour and a half without thinking anything, just worrying about what the day holds and knowing that you won’t be able to deal with it.

Of course I wasn't abused. If I were; things would be so simple. I'd have a reason to for being in a shrinks office. I'd have a justification and something to work on. The world wasn't going to give me something that tidy.

deep down I believe my year was a special year: it produced me.

I'm not afraid of dying, I'm afraid of living.

I found myself jealous of the people who wrote the books. They were dead and they were still taking up my time. Who did they think they were?