I write out of revenge.

Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.

People don't remember me. Really. It's not a paranoid thing; I just have this habit of slipping through memories. It doesn't bother me all that much, except I guess that's a lie; it does. For some reason, I test very high on forgettability.

You can never trust what you read.

You could concentrate much more deeply when you were alone with agony.

I must be overtired', Buttercup managed. 'The excitement and all.' 'Rest then', her mother cautioned. 'Terrible things can happen when you're overtired. I was overtired the night your father proposed.

You have a dizzying intellect.