To truly hate is an art one learns with time.

Money is like any other virus: once it has rotted the soul of the person who houses it, it sets off in search of new blood.

You end up becoming someone you see in the eyes of those you love.

Perhaps for that very reason, I adored her all the more, because of the eternal human stupidity of pursuing those who hurt us the most.

-Do you think it's dirty money? -All money is dirty. If it were clean nobody would want it.

In those days, Christmas still retained a certain aura of magic and mystery. The powdery light of winter, the hopeful expressions of people who lived among shadows and silence, lent that setting a slight air of promise in which at least children and those who had learned the art of forgetting could still believe.

Do you know the best thing about broken hearts? They can only really break once the rest is just scratches.