“Reading is one way I cope. I go somewhere else for a while and submerge myself in the character's problems instead of my mine.”

“I wonder if I’m going crazy. I think I read somewhere - or was it something I learned in psychology class? - that people often make up their own reality as a means of coping with what their brains can’t possible handle. The idea comforts me, because while no one else out there seems to be trying to protect or save me, at least maybe my brain in.”

“I was pulled this way and that for longer than I can remember. And my problem was that I always tried to go in everyone's way but my own. I have also been called one thing and then another while no one really wished to hear what I called myself. So after years of trying to adopt the opinions of others I finally rebelled. I am an invisible man.”

“When I write a page that reads badly I know that it is myself who has written it. When it reads well it has come through from somewhere else.”

“Everybody has the same energy potential. The average person wastes his in a dozen little ways. I bring mine to bear on one thing only: my paintings, and everything else is sacrificed to it...myself included.”

“You're just a character in my dream.""You wish.""I didn't mean my love interest," she replied defensively. "You'd have better hair. You're the character I dreamed up because the rest of the dream was making me homesick." "Maybe you're the character I dreamed up to scare myself awake.""That's not very nice!""You made fun of my hair. I like it this way. Short and simple."I don't mind short. Mine is short.""Then what's wrong with mine?" Jason challenged."Maybe we should talk about something else.""Like the guy on a horse coming to kill us?""It needs more style," she muttered."The horse?""Your hair.""I forgot to bring my gel when I got eaten by a hippo.”