“I am only 8 years old, I told myself. No little boy of 8 has ever murdered anyone. It's not possible.”

“Your job is obviously very pressured.""I thrive under pressure," I explain. Which is true. I've known that about myself ever since...Well. Ever since my mother told me when I was about 8.”

“I really am going to meet Forster: I thought I shouldn't, but apparently the old boy E.M.F. is saying with remembered my name & I am bid to John Hewitt's at 8 tomorrow. Shall I ask him if he's a homo? It's the only thing I really want to know about him, you see. I don't even care why he packed up writing.”

“He told me he had a wife and daughter, and then he showed me a picture of an 8-year-old girl, to which I said, “Don’t you think she’s a bit too young to be a wife and mother?” Fucking pedophiles.”

“I walk to Oxford Street and climb on the number 8. It's freezing and it starts to rain and it's the ugliest bus I've ever seen, rattling down the ugliest streets, in the ugliest city, in the ugliest country, in the ugliest of all possible worlds.”

“I rolled my eyes." Has anyone told you you have the maturity level of a four-year-old?”