How to Lead a Life of Crime

What takes more guts? To fight for your own life at any cost—or prove that you're willing to lose it?

You’re never ready for the truth. No matter how much you think you know, it always takes you by surprise.

Where's the course called How to Lead a Life of Crime? That's what this is about, isn't it? You've got everyone thinking this is the best school in the country, but it's really just a Hogwarts for hustlers.

You've either bat-shit insane or you've watched too many movies. This isn't Star Wars, Mandel. I'm not Luke Skywalker. My dad's not Darth Vader. And you sure as hell aren't my Obi-Wan.

Aside from the nagging, he's the most entertaining hallucination I've ever had.

What would it be like to exist in a world without suffering? To have no needs, only desires? To be surrounded by so much beauty that you forget how ugly life is for everyone else? Who wouldn’t want that? Who wouldn’t be willing to fight for it? What the alumni did to get there – lie, cheat, steal, kill – I’m sure they’d all say it was worth it. And I bet they sleep soundly because they know that their nameless, faceless victims would have done the same thing.

See? You’re the crazy one, you redheaded freak. I’ve been attempting to translate the phrase into Latin. If I ever succeed, I shall make it my personal motto.

Gwendolyn and I have a beautiful relationship. She tells me everything. I haven't killed her yet.

I kept my arms around Joi and my face buried deep in her hair while I waited for Peter Pan to slip through the window. I thought I needed him to tell me what I should do. But he never showed up. He left me alone with a girl who smelled of jasmine and cocoa butter. And before I fell asleep, I finally realized that was more than enough.

Why are you here?" "Because you never said goodbye.

You're my one good thing now.

Can I ask you a question? I swear it's not about heaven." Joi laughs. "Shoot." "Why do you love me?" I ask her. "Because you love me back," she says without hesitation. "You have no idea how much," I tell her. "Yes, I do," she says.

Joi..." "Shut up," she says as she unbuttons my shirt. "I didn't bring you here for a heart-to-heart. How do I get this thing off without hurting you?

You will also be called upon to provide well-timed distractions. Get the whole country arguing about sex education or gays in the military, and Americans will stop paying attention to all the things they should fear.