But stories are like people, Atticus. Loving them doesn’t make them perfect. You try to cherish their virtues and overlook their flaws. The flaws are still there, though. ""But you don’t get mad. Not like Pop does.""No, that’s true, I don’t get mad. Not at stories. They do disappoint me sometimes." He looked at the shelves. "Sometimes, they stab me in the heart.

Well, it all started when I figured out that the janitor at my high school was the Angel of Death…

described the Internet as “a series of intestines, laid out by a goatherd’s son, spewing bile at both ends