Well, enough of this introspection. It’s depressing, quite frankly.

Have you ever noticed how good things go to those who hate?

I wouldn’t be caught dead sacrificing myself for this country.

Worry wasn’t an emotion to which he was particularly accustomed—and it worried him.

Nobody ever goes to that store to shop because it’s too crowded.

I should think a dead language would be rather boring, sociallyspeaking.

Spanish—how shall I say this?—is likePortuguese spoken with a speech impediment.

True, beneath the human façade, I was an interloper, an alien whose ship had crashed beyond hope of repair in the backwoods of Southern Appalachia—but at least I’d learned to walk and talk enough like the locals to be rejected as one of their own.