I don't know whether I could visit a new neighborhood now and have a kid's set of observations about a place. I no longer can really think like a child, though I can remember thinking like one.

Pajamas are good for the soul.

Life is a million different dots making one gigantic picture. And maybe the big picture is nice, maybe it's amazing, but if you're standing with your face pressed up against a bunch of black dots, it's really hard to tell.

Like when that man was running down Broadway stark naked and we all had to eat in the cafeteria while the police tried to catch him.

Sometimes you never feel meaner than the moment you stop being mean.

Nice tights," I snorted. Or I tried to snort, anyway. I'm not exactly sure how, though people in books are always doing it.

Mom's always telling me to smile and hoping I'll turn into a smiley person, which, to be honest, is kind of annoying.