Despite claims of being distraught and confused, sometime while he had the body he did take time, in his grief, to stop by a bordello. To comfort himself, I guess.

You can not die of grief, though it feels as if you can. A heart does not actually break, though sometimes your chest aches as if it is breaking. Grief dims with time. It is the way of things. There comes a day when you smile again, and you feel like a traitor. How dare I feel happy. How dare I be glad in a world where my father is no more. And then you cry fresh tears, because you do not miss him as much as you once did, and giving up your grief is another kind of death.

I don't care how many of these things I can inject into my body, am I going to be able to compete with Shaquille O'Neal on the basketball court? No. Or would he be able to compete with me on the skating surface? No. So there's a lot to just basic genetics, body style, physical stature, and then the mental capability, too. There's more to sports than just being big and strong and quick.

My heart is so light that it's amazing. I get to play all this grief, all this loss, all this disaster and chaos. It's hysterically funny. I am very light.

Happiness is beneficial for the body, but it is grief that develops the powers of the mind

I disciplined him the way I was raised. Certain occasions call for drastic measures.