I didn't think much about that statement then. But later I would-I still do. I think about it and think about it until I think I'm going crazy.

I was a tomboy and most of my close friends were male.

California is like a beautiful wild kid on heroin, high as a kite and thinking she's on top of the world, not knowing she's dying, not believing it even if you show her the marks.

I learned that if you want to get somewhere, you just make up your mind and work like hell til you get there.

...people get hurt in rumbles, maybe killed. I'm sick of it because it doesn't do any good. You can't win...even if you whip us. You'll still be where you were before- at the bottom. And we'll still be the lucky ones with all the breaks. So it doesn't do any good, the fighting and the killing. It doesn't prove a thing.

I go straight from thinking about my narrator to being him.

He sure put things into words good.