As we grow older I always think, why didn't I do more when I was young, why didn't I risk more?

The only thing I shy away from is non-consensual violence. I can't write a story where someone is a simple victim because it's boring.

In good old Colonial Dunsboro, masochism is a valuable job skill. It is in most jobs.

We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens.

Cults make people sing so hard for so long - because it over-oxygenates the blood and sets them up to faint.

The cancer I don't have is everywhere now.

It's obsequious little nicety-nice girls like me who allow assholes to run the world: Miss Harlot O'Harlots, billionaire phony tree huggers, hypocrite drug-snorting, weed-puffing peace activists who fund the mass-murdering drug cartels and perpetuate crushing poverty in dirt-poor banana republics. It's my petty fear of personal rejection that allows so many true evils to exist. My cowardice enables atrocities.