It broke the spell. It's not that I stopped being happy. I was still inexplicably, utterly happy. But suddenly the happiness had implications.

I deciced if I were ever to get into booze and women, my line would be, 'Excuse me, madam, but I would really love to bed and muss you. . . . Are you perchance free this evening?

The only use she has for the word fun is to make the word funeral.

Wow. I feel like in this riot of people, I have been kicked in the stomach, but by the giddy police. Forget about the need for oxygen. My mouth wants to go back to the place it just left.

People are like that, judging you before they know you.

There was no word in the dictionary adequate to describe the sensation other than sensational.

I was horribly bookish, to the point of coming right out and saying it, which I knew was not socially acceptable.