I don't find slashing and blood flying everywhere to be scary. I just find it repulsive.

Out of sight above the house, the mirror moon reflected the sun of a day not yet dawned, shining the pale light of tomorrow on the yard and on the paper birches.

Given my heritage and the ordeal of my childhood, I sometimes wonder why I myself am not insane. Maybe I am.

I come down on the side of free will but I have sympathy for those who believe in fate because there is something about life which we feel we have no control over.

Of course, I don't know everything. Considering the infinite amount of knowledge that one could acquire in a virtually innumerable array of intellectual disciplines, it's probably more accurate to say that I don't know anything.

The hatred of truth is the taproot of violence.

I was looking forward to having a halo. It would make such a convenient reading lamp.