“The child molester skipped breakfast, but said he'd grab a little something on the way to work.”

“If you want to be a writer, you have to write every day... You don't go to a well once but daily. You don't skip a child's breakfast or forget to wake up in the morning...”

“You're nothing but a sick child molester, and if were up to me, I'd toss you into the seventh circle of hell and walk away smiling. Now get out of my way- or do I have to make you?”

“Gun control? My wife had a job for three years before she found out that her boss was a convicted sex offender—a child molester. She used to take our son to work with her. When we found out, she quit her job and filed for unemployment, but was denied because she didn’t have to quit. That’s a true story. I wonder what would happen if a young child walked into a room full of child molesters and executed them with an AR-15? What would congress have to say about gun control then?”

“You're going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater.”

“I realized about a month ago that there's a last time everyone skips across a street. And that most people I know have already skipped for the last time and don't know it.From here on out it will always be walking or running, growing older and buying things at the store or seeing friends or going to work, but never again will life impel them to skip. When I thought of this, the tragedy of it overwhelmed me so that I skipped all the way home from my friend's house.Skipping is a strange thing. Because it means something. Like trains make the sound of leaving. Skipping is the motion of being totally free, childlike, abandoned of self and to self.But I learned something else about skipping. You can't fake it. Or make it happen. It must be something that happens to you. (pp. 152-153)”