We all have some proper noun to blame.
Only after disaster can we be resurrected.
You kill strangers deliberately so you don't accidentally kill the people you love.
What they don't teach you in art school is how your whole life is about discovering who you already were.
We hear the ambient noise of children singing. We hear lions and tigers roar. Hyenas laugh. Some jungle bird or howler monkey declares its existence, screeching a maniac's gibberish. Our entire world, always doing battle against the silence and obscurity of death.
You can’t fool people into loving you.