All Of My Books Come From Pain.

Disappear Here. The Syringe Fills With Blood. You're A Beautiful Boy And That's All That Matters. Wonder If He's For Sale. People Are Afraid To Merge. To Merge.

The Smiths Are Singing And Someone Says "turn That Gay Angst Music Off.

There’s No Grand Plan. All I Know Is That I Write The Books I Want To Write. All That Other Stuff Is Meaningless To Me.

Women Aren't Very Bright," Rip Says. "studies Have Been Done.

That's How I Became The Damaged Party Boy Who Wandered Through The Wreckage, Blood Streaming From His Nose, Asking Questions That Never Required Answers. That's How I Became The Boy Who Never Understood How Anything Worked. That's How I Became The Boy Who Wouldn't Save A Friend. That's How I Became The Boy Who Couldn't Love The Girl.