— Oh, thank God!
— Call me Dean.
I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.
Before, they had laughed at me, despising me for my ignorance and dullness; now, they hated me for my knowledge and understanding.
I'm not sad, I'm complicated, chicks dig that.
The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.
I feel sick. Not like for a doctor, but inside my chest it feels empty, like getting punched and a heartburn at the same time.
There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.
Before I can live with other folks I’ve got to live with myself.
I'm only laughing on the outside. My smile is just skin-deep. If you could see inside... I'm really crying. You might join me for a weep.
Newbie, what're you saying? That you want to be like me? Do you understand that I just barely want to be like me?