I was never more alive than when the Dark Passenger was driving.
Whatever made me the way I am left me hollow, empty inside, unable to feel. It doesn't seem like a big deal. I'm quite sure most people fake an awful lot of everyday human contact. I just fake it all. I fake it very well, and the feelings are never there.
But of course, there's no rest for the wicked, which I certainly am; as I said, no rest for the wicked.
I rose to my knees, mouth dry and heart pounding, and paused to finger a rip in my beautiful Dacron bowling shirt. I pushed my fingertip through the hole and wiggled it at myself. Hello, Dexter, where are you going? Hello, Mr. Finger. I don't know, but I'm almost there. I hear my friends calling.
For the first time I could remember, I felt weak, woozy and stupid— like a human-being. Like a very small and helpless human-being.
But what could I do? Be stupid for a while? I wasn't sure I knew how, even after so many years of careful observation.
I really am guilty, of many somethings, all of them lethal and very enjoyable and technically not quite legal.
And what did you do last night, Dexter? Oh, I played with my dolls while a friend chopped up my sister.
Stop the nurse like the monkey.
I looked around the store and what I saw was not very encouraging. There were rows and rows of violent toys...aisle after aisle of training devices for recreational slaughter. No wonder our world was such a mean and violent place...if we teach children that killing is fun, can we really be surprised if now and then someone is smart enough to learn?
I mean, really: what kind of person could possibly dislike me?
First things first has always been my motto, mostly because it makes absolutely no sense - after all, if first things were second or third, they wouldn't be first things, would they? Still, cliches exist to comfort the feeble minded, not to provide any actual meaning.
I stood up. It was all too much. I could not even meet my own expectations, and to be asked to deal with all theirs too was suffocating.
I know family comes first, but shouldn't that mean after breakfast?
And I was having too much fun to stop now.
I think people understand things different when they get older. It’s not a question of getting soft, or seeing things in the gray areas instead of black and white. I really believe I’m just understanding things different. Better.
I had killed our careful relationship by driving my tongue through its heart and pushing it off a cliff.
The key to a happy life is to have accomplishments to be proud of and purpose to look forward to, and at the moment I had both. How wonderful it was to be me.
Dying makes everyone weaker, subject to painful insight, and not always insight into any kind of special truth - it's just the approaching end that makes people want to believe they are seeing something in the line of a great revelation.
It took me a moment. I blinked, and suddenly it swam into focus and I had to frown very hard to keep myself from giggling out loud like the schoolgirl Deb had accused me of being. Because he had arranged the arms and legs in letters, and the letters spelled out a single small word: BOO. The three torsos were carefully arranged below the BOO in a quarter-circle, making a cute little Halloween smile. What a scamp.
Of course, having information to use is one thing. Knowing what it means and how to use it is a different story.
Perhaps because I'll never be one, humans are interesting to me.
Of course it was a terrible thing, and the world would be a much better place without someone in it who could do that, but did that mean we had to miss lunch?
What do you want a clock for?” “To find out what time it is,” I said. “I think that’s the usual purpose.
The faster it ran away from me. And I found myself reasoning that perhaps one more beer would unlock the doors of perception.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: