But as I have noticed on more than one occaision, life itself is unfair, and there is no complaint department, so we might as well accept things the way they happen, clean up the mess, and move on.
Quirky, funny, happy-go-lucky dead inside Dexter. No longer Dexter with the knife, Dexter the Avenger. Not until next time.
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.
It was such an unexpected and genuine smile that if I only had a soul I’m sure I would have felt quite guilty.
There are still very few laws against thinking, although I am sure they’re working hard on that in Washington.
Money to me had always been merely something the sheep used to show each other how wonderful they were.
I had killed our careful relationship by driving my tongue through its heart and pushing it off a cliff.
I know family comes first, but shouldn’t that mean after breakfast?
The mind picks some very bad times to take a walk doesn’t it?
Why bother inflicting enormous pain on yourself when sooner or later Life would certainly get around to doing it for you?
And as we should all know by now, anytime you predict failure you have an excellent chance of being right.
When faced with people who have very limited conversational skills and no apparent desire to cultivate any it’s always easier to simply go along.
At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it’s own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
And as always seems to happen when I have reached the point where I am ready to take decisive action, everything began to happen at once.
I think that’s nice, and if I could have feelings at all I would have them for Deb.
A man can take only so much. Even a phony man like me.
Since I am not actually a real human being, my emotional responses are generally limited to what I have learned to fake.
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.
I had become a perfect fake human, saying the stupid and pointless things that humans say to each other all day long.
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?
Was insanity really easier to accept than unconsciousness?
Rectory always sounded to me like a place you would find a proctologist.
In its own way the kiss had been an act of murder.
What, in all very seriousness, the hell was going on?
Really now: If you can’t get me my newspaper on time, how can you expect me to refrain from killing people?
Whatever made me the way I am left me hollow, empty inside, unable to feel. It doesn’t seem like a big deal.
It’s always me, isn’t it? I’m not really a very nice person, but for some reason it’s always me that they come to with their problems.
A man who discovers his pants are on fire tends to have very little time to worry about somebody else’s box of matches
Doakes had a first name! It was Albert – had anyone ever really called him that? Unthinkable. I had assumed his name was Sergeant.
Life teaches us that human thought almost never walks hand in hand with logic, and it is usually counterproductive to raise the point.
Anybody can be charming if they don’t mind faking it, saying all the stupid, obvious, nauseating things that a conscience keeps most people from saying. Happily, I don’t have a conscience. I say them.
Always marveling at how New Age pseudo-philosophy had taken over the Internet.
I mean, really: what kind of person could possibly dislike me?
No blood at all. I could hear that phrase repeat itself in my head, louder each time. No sticky, hot, messy, awful blood. No splatter. NO BLOOD AT ALL. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
Or was he saying, “Hi! Wanna play?”And I did. Of course I did.
I was good at being charming, one of my very few vanities.
My first true lesson in writing came from Mr. Bowden when I was 16. At my high school, he was the teacher known to be the very best at literature and writing.