When I wake up the next morning, there's a Hershey's Kiss sitting on the table beside me.

I'm one, too," he said. "What?" He spit a wad of blood and mucus into the dirt. "A virgin." What a shock. "What makes you think I'm a virgin?" I asked. "You wouldn't have hit me if you weren't.

There's the bullshit you know that you know; the bullshit you don't know and know you don't know; and the bullshit you just think you know but really don't.

Nothing makes us love something more than the loss of it.

I was woefully ignorant in the social graces. I was being raised, after all, by Pellinore Warthrop.

My first favourite book was Are You My Mother? A picture book about a lost bird. After that my favourites changed almost yearly. I loved everything by Roald Dahl, but my favourite was probably Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. A librarian gave me a first edition of that book, which I treasure.

You're mortal, and only a mortal can afford to be romantic. When we conquered death, we murdered love.