I hated the place, Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was all … your … fault!

What was the point of even having a conversation when words couldn't be trusted?

Awww, " Minho said. "That's almost as sweet as that time she slammed the end of a spear into your shuck face.

Thomas: Is it [my brain] fixed?Brenda: It worked, judging from the fact that you're not trying to kill us anymore...

if any of your body parts become detached due to an unfortunate encounter with a crank, I highly advise you leave said body part behind and run like hell. Unless it's a leg, of course.

I was born with my voice in my hands.

Home.” This was my mantra, my four-letter savior.

I think it's fair to say that my temperament is steady - and on the buoyant side.

One of the many problems with the American left has been its image as something rather too solemn, mirthless, herbivorous, dull, monochrome, righteous, and boring.

Right now, every American is affected by high energy prices. Working families, small businesses and consumers across the country are feeling the pinch with no end in sight.

Even though I may not intend it when I set out to write the book, these places just emerge as major players in what I'm doing, almost as if they are insisting on it.

Morality, as has often been pointed out, is antecedent to religion-it even exists in a rudimentary form among animals.

Nothing annoys a 'progressive' like refugees from Communism, who give the lie to the Great Socialist Dream.

He that writes to himself writes to an eternal public. That statement only is fit to be made public, which you have come at in attempting to satisfy your own curiosity.

I fear the day when the Kuffar are proud of their falsehood, and the Muslims are shy of their faith.