I laughed when I read about being born with two hearts, one of which is devoted only to destroying humanity.

Why should I be sad? Everyone has to die. If you have a body, it's too late to cry. It's only funerals I can't stand.

How do we know that our life really happened and that we are not simply accumulating details, making it all up as we go along?

Girls are always saying things like, “I’m so unhappy that I’m going to overdose on aspirin,” but they’d be awfully surprised if they succeeded. They have no intention of dying. At the first sight of blood, they panic.

I got swirling eyes and the capacity to shatter windows with my bare voice. Tod got teleportation and invisibility. The supernatural world is so far from fair.

Some days I wonder how I'll get through a whole lifetime of thinking. A life that's just words, words, words, shuffling around in my head. Was I born that way?