Karen

“No, I don’t believe in reincarnation. Or an afterlife, to be perfectly frank. I think this is as good as it gets, which is why it’s so important to make the best of this life. To confront our problems, to work through them, so ultimately we can be free of them and enjoy the time we have.”
― J.T. Geissinger, Midnight Valentine

“I changed my mind.”

“You changed—”

“My. Mind.” I stopped short and faced him, placing my hands on my hips. “It’s like underpants, Jethro.”

“Dirty and dark?” He smirked.

“No.” I scowled at his facial expression. “A mind is like underpants because people change them all the time.”

“But you don’t.”

“I do change my underpants all the time, Jethro. And, for the record, I think it’s mighty rude of you to assume I don’t.”

He almost rolled his eyes, but caught the urge. “I meant your mind, Cletus. You don’t change your mind.”
― Penny Reid, Beard Science

“One of the first shrinks I went to after Cass died told me that the brain has a hardwired need to find correlations, to make sense of nonsensical data by making connections between unrelated things. Humans have evolved a universal tendency to seek patterns in random information, hence the existence of fortune-tellers and dream interpreters and people who see the face of Jesus in a piece of toast. But the cold, hard truth is that there are no connections between anything. Life—all of existence—is totally random. Your lucky lottery numbers aren’t really lucky, because there’s no such thing as luck. The black cat that crosses your path isn’t a bad omen, it’s just a cat out for a walk. An eclipse doesn’t mean that the gods are angry, just as a bus narrowly missing you as you cross the street doesn’t mean there’s a guardian angel looking out for you. There are no gods. There are no angels. Superstitions aren’t real, and no amount of wishing, praying, or rationalizing can change the fact that life is just one long sequence of random events that ultimately have no meaning. I really hated that shrink.”
― J.T. Geissinger, Midnight Valentine

“Why is your nose so red?
Snort coke much?

“Okay, Sunshine, it’s on,” I mutter, then type.

Charming. That’s called walking-in-cold-wind nose. However, if I knew I’d be bumping into you,
I’d definitely have turned to drugs to help me through the trauma.”
― J.T. Geissinger, Midnight Valentine