She tried to smile sympathetically, but with her face it wasn't quite possible.
Authors have odd relationships with their creations They owe their fame and fortune to their characters but feel enslaved by them.
You must do what you want.
For all men are equal at the moment of death and who are we to judge them when a much greater judge awaits?
He didn't want to remember anymore. remembering only hurt him... everytime.
He had tattooed all of the names of the men he had killed on his body...unfortunately he had run out of room.