Because When You Love Something,

It’s My Own Fault, Really. For Believing In Fairy Tales. Not That I Ever Mistook Them For Actual Historical Fact, Or Anything. But I Did Grow Up Believing That For Every Girl, There’s A Prince Out There Somewhere. All She Has To Do Is Find Him. Then It’s On With The Happily Ever After. So You Can Only Imagine What Happened When I Found Out. That My Prince Really Is One. A Prince. No, I Really Mean It. He’s An Actual Prince.

I Snatched The Paper Away From Dopey. "hey," He Yelled. "i Was Reading That!" "let Somebody Who Can Pronounce All The Big Words Have A Try," I Said.

I May Have Been Dead For The Past Hundred And Fifty Years, Susannah,...but That Doesn't Mean I Don't Know How People Say Good Night. And Generally, When People Say Good Night, They Keep Their Tongues To Themselves.

Because My Heat Was Too Full Of Appreciation For What My Friends-- My Real Friends-- Had Done For Me.

But I Had Loved Him. A Part Of Me Still Did. Maybe More Than A Part Of Me, Because I'm A Complete Moron.