I am an open book, literally. I don’t mind if people know way too much about me.
Ellen had long ago stopped being embarrassed by temper tantrums. She flipped it and wore it like a badge of honor. A temper tantrum was a sign that a mom said no when it counted.
I’ve read that one out of twenty-four people is a sociopath, and if you ask me, the other twenty-three of you should be worried.
I’m a sociopath. I look normal, but I’m not. I’m smarter, better, and freer, because I’m not bound by rules, law, emotion or regard for you.
I can’t stand just sitting here not doing anything. You can’t solve a problem by remote control.
I don’t really like you, but I’m so good at acting as if I do that it’s basically the same thing.
Nah. I’m a tough cookie. Except for the cancer, I’m fine.
They don’t realize evil lives on their streets.
I fool you. I fool everyone.
You need somebody to stand up for you. You’re the little guy, you just don’t realize it yet. The Commonwealth has all the aces, and you don’t even know you’re playing cards.
Your typical suburban mom worries all the time, but she worries about the wrong things.
I wonder if whoever invented World of Warcraft realizes it’s practice for sociopaths.
Ask me if I care.
You should be more paranoid.
If you think I’m handsome, there’s obviously nothing wrong with your vision.
I’m neither your friend nor your frenemy, unless you have what I want.
He made eye contact but he kept it like casual observation, not a fixed stare. He held his arms at his sides, not only because it was less threatening, but they’d be able to fend off a blow. He cleared the doorway so he’d have an escape route.
I fool everybody!
We’re here and we prey on you.
I don’t need my head examined, but where were you when I married my second husband. Sheesh.