One of my da's tragedies was always the fact that he was bright enough to understand just how comprehensively he had shat all over his life.

People you knew when you were teenagers, the ones who saw your stupidest haircut and the most embarrassing things you've done in your life, and they still cared about you after all that: they're not replaceable, you know?

I wasn't sure I could make it through another hour of his company without throwing my stapler at his head.

Some people are little Chernobyls, shimmering with silent, spreading poison: get anywhere near them and every breath you take will wreck you from the inside out.

Here's a little tip for you. If you don't like being called a murderer, don't kill people.

Don't you ever feel that - that you just need to get away? From everything? That it's all too much?

When you're too close to people, when you spend too much time with them and love them too dearly, sometimes you can't see them