That despised half-caste boy I knew, crying himself to sleep. That shunned little wog who had not a friend in the world aside from me. He could kill. God, he wanted to. You remember late at night in our room, over the hookah, listing the names of all the boys who had insulted you? The recitation of your potential victims. Your nightly prayers. That anger inside you, all that rage. Have you lost it?
The truth is that there are a lot of people like you, us, with strange hobbies or talents or gifts and we try to hide it because we’re afraid that it makes us seem weird or it will turn people off, but that’s a mistake. What makes me unique has brought every person I love into my life. (Pushing Daisies, Season two)
I have this teenage patient who adamantly refused drugs of any kind because addiction runs in her family, and I just convinced her heroin addict father to let me give her pain meds anyway. What was I thinking?