adding a few new ones to this category today, from yesterday on the subway and the trip home from austria. it is beginning to be one of my favorites:
I know her - well, sort of. Actually, I don't really understand her at all.
It's part of the madness - I pity him, and yet I'm intrigued by him.
She had it coming, so don’t feel too bad.
I’ve found that the French people are, like, more exciting.
He’s dead now but I met him before he was famous.
He suffered later for it because the noise was pretty intense.
Remember – it was snowing horribly? And she was holding the dog?
She ain’t never gonna get out of here. I feel sorry for her – maybe she was nice.
He didn't go to bed 'til 6, I woke him up at 9. He must be drunk.
They'd have to go straight to the hotel. Maybe they missed their connection.
She's the one that broke her arm in Paris.