I Was Good At Being Charming, One

I Am Not Shy About Admitting My Modest Talents. For Example, I Am Happy To Admit That I Am Better Than Average At Clever Remarks, And I Also Have A Flair For Getting People To Like Me. But To Be Perfectly Fair To Myself, I Am Ever-ready To Confess My Shortcomings, Too, And A Quick Round Of Soul-searching Forced Me To Admit That I Had Never Been Any Good At All At Breathing Water. As I Hung There From The Seat Belt, Dazed And Watching The Water Pour In And Swirl Around My Head, This Began To Seem Like A Very Large Character Flaw.

In Its Own Way The Kiss Had Been An Act Of Murder.

Dying Makes Everyone Weaker, Subject To Painful Insight, And Not Always Insight Into Any Kind Of Special Truth - It's Just The Approaching End That Makes People Want To Believe They Are Seeing Something In The Line Of A Great Revelation.

Killing Makes Me Feel Good.

A Man Can Take Only So Much. Even A Phony Man Like Me.