There's something scary about stupidity made coherent.

The trouble is, I can't find a part of myself where you're not important.  I write in order to be worth your while and to finance the way I want to live with you.  Not the way you want to live.  The way I want to live with you.  Without you I wouldn't care.  I'd eat tinned spaghetti and put on yesterday's clothes.  But as it is I change my socks, and make money, and tart up Brodie's unspeakable drivel into speakable drivel so he can be an author too, like me.