Kids, fiction is the truth inside the lie, and the truth of this fiction is simple enough: the magic exists.

Of course when you were running with the bottom dogs, what you mostly saw were paws, claws, and assholes.

In these silences something may rise

Sorry is the Kool-Aid of human emotions. It's what you say when you spill a cup of coffee or throw a gutter ball when you're bowling with the girls in the league. True sorrow is as rare as true love.

You can't deny laughter; when it comes, it plops down in your favorite chair and stays as long as it wants.

Research can only present data about the past. No one seriously believes that people's answers to hypothetical questions about the future accurately represent their future behaviour; they merely represent a current attitude, which may or may not be translated into future behaviour.

She is a cat with a burning tail, an ant under a microscope, a fly about to lose its wings to the curious plucking fingers of a third-grader on a rainy day, a game for bored children with no bodies and the whole universe at their feet.