“I don't know what I'd do if for some reason I was no longer able to write. Commit murder, perhaps. At the very least, torture and mayhem.”

“I don't know how much longer I can keep going without a friend. I used to be able to do it very easily, but that was before I knew what having a friend was like.”

“I'm placing you under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder and, I don't know, possibly littering.”

“I sell mayhem, scandal, murder and doom.”

“I'd made myself some hot chocolate, located a book with a lot of murder and mayhem,curled up on a loveseat near the fireplace, and was happily envisioning Joe as the corpse of this tale.”

“Why do people kill themselves?I think they do it when they can no longer find a reason to keep going. When nothing in heir lives is good enough to balance out the bad. And they do it when they no longer have the courage to carry on past some recent painful experience. They commit what is, in the end, a desperate, final call for help, that is hopefully heard in time by someone else. And what if it's not heard in time? I ask although I know the answer.Then they die.”