And once again I found myself wondering, as I drifted off to stunned and unbelieving sleep:How do these terrible things always happen to me?
you can’t use logic on human behavior.
Killing makes me feel good.
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'm quite sure more people fake an awful lot of everyday human contact. I just fake all of it." --Dexter
And so as much as I can, I care about her, dear Deborah. It's probably not love, but I would rather she were happy.
That's why I liked him, I think. Another guy pretending to be human, just like me.
It’s like, everything really is two ways, the way we all pretend it is and the way it really is
Life teaches us that human thought almost never walks hand in hand with logic, and it is usually counterproductive to raise the point.
Have you noticed how difficult it is just to get along in the world? If you're no good at all in your job, people treat you badly and eventually you will be unemployed. And if you're a little better than competent, everyone expects miracles from you, every single time. Like most of life, it's a no-win situation. And if you dare to mention it, no matter how creatively you phrase your complaints, you are shunned as a whiner.
What a terrible thing life can be.
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.
Mutilated corpses with a chance of afternoon showers. I got dressed and went to work.
In its own way the kiss had been an act of murder.
The mind picks some very bad times to take a walk doesn't it?
Was insanity really easier to accept than unconsciousness?
Since I am not actually a real human being, my emotional responses are generally limited to what I have learned to fake.
…a cheerful black shadow reared up behind him as he spoke, thundering a happy challenge to my Dark Passenger, which slid forward and bellowed back.
It happens; incompetence is rewarded more often than not.
They like to tell us that it is important to speak the truth, but it has been my experience that real happiness lies in having people tell you what you want to believe, usually not the same thing at all, and if you have to stub your toe on the truth later, so be it.
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.
As I've said, freedom is really an illusion. Anytime we think we have a real choice, it just means we haven't seen the shotgun aimed at our navel.
It really is better to be lucky than to be good.
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.
A man who discovers his pants are on fire tends to have very little time to worry about somebody else's box of matches
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