“Let’s be honest— I think one of you people did this. I think one of your giddy, delusional pals killed Cale and stole my diary. Probably for some obsessive, arcane, and pointless reason. The twisted tosser is most likely building a shrine to the thing right now, praying to it like a dusty Ganesha. I’m going to need someone who is—how shall I put this?–similarly disposed in order to get the diary back.”

“I love people who make me laugh. I honestly think it's the thing I like most, to laugh. It cures a multitude of ills. It's probably the most important thing in a person.”

“Book five of Dork Diaries is one of my favorite books it brings my thoughts deep into the book and think if you haven't read it you should you will probably fell just as I fell.”

“You think this is funny? Did you like him touching you?...Take off your clothes,”“What?”“I’m feeling the need to mark my territory and I want you right here. Right now.”

“They're all tossers, aren't they, men like Martin. They think women are like fucking laptops or whatever, like, my old one's knackered and anyway, you can get ones that are slimmer and do more stuff now.”

“It's funny,' I noted in the diary, 'how often I seem to build a story around one sentence, nearly always the last one, too. The themes are a bit depressing but I just can't get rid of that.”