But people love a hypocrite, you know----they recognize one of their own, and it always feels so good when someone gets caught with his pants down and his dick up and it isn't you.
I commit her to memory. When I'm alone, I feel a strange yearning, the hunger of a man fasting not because he believes but because he's ashamed. Not the cleansing hunger of the devout, but the feverish hunger of the hypocrite. I let her go every evening only because there's nothing I can do to stop her.