I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and dog gone it people like me.

Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant dust?

I’m a bit of an expert on anger, having suffered from it all through my youth, when I was both brunt and font. It’s certainly the most miserable state to be in but it’s also tremendously gratifying, really—rage feels justified. And it’s an excellent substitute for action. Why would you want to sacrifice rage to go about the long, difficult, dreary business of making something more tolerable?

Growing old happens but growing up needn't happen

[...] the thought of entering that stale, tomb-like house again caused my skin to break out into braille.

Silliness is the perfect spice on any personality.