Book: Dormant demon Dexter

... Sounds very good, quite touching, if you have something to touch.

I know this is a nearly human weakness, and maybe it extends beyond mere sentimentality, but I have always loved funerals. In the first place because they are clean, tidy and fully comply with thoroughly tested a ceremonial rules.

I really don't like the feeling of realizing that I have feelings.

When you put a ice tower out of pure common sense, which I always believed, of course, expecting logical tips, correcting your course of action. So naturally you ignore the biased, irrational and at the same time a loud musical screech of votes coming from the bottom floor of your brain that try to send you down the wrong path, no matter how loud and clear they sounded in the wavering light of the moon.

I think they have too much free time and money and too little reason for owning it.

... Because in dreams we're all crazy, isn't it? That is, in the end, the dream, if not the process by which we get out their madness into the dark pit of the subconscious, and then out the other side ready to eat Breakfast cereal, not the kids next door?

The conscience men are not able to live with dishonor.

One look at the complexion young gentleman enough to make sure that he used inside cold pizza, potato chips and a liter of Pepsi. All this destroys the appearance, giving the man kind of meaningless hostility.

The weapon has one amazing property: it can shoot even the police, who are sick.

Way through the crowd of reporters, in whose nostrils the smell of blood - always a difficult thing. Just do not think, because in front of the camera, they immediately become citizens with brain damage and severe indigestion. But should they be in front of a police barricade - there is a wonderful transformation. They become strong, aggressive, willing and able to sweep in and crush everything in its path. It's a bit like the stories of the mothers in the age, lifting the truck, when under him is their child. Power is derived from some mystical source, and somehow, when blood is shed, those suffering from anorexia creating can punch their way through anything. Even without ruffling the hair.

I smeared between memory and sleep, and I can't say that one is more attractive.

It fills me with horror when I think about what my mind is no longer in the city, but most left me to pay the rent.

No, really: is the whole world gone mad? What happened to the people? Really all they are thinking about?

The only mandatory property of life - it should be interesting, which at the moment was. However, "interesting" is not the most important word in its description.