My rage outweighs my shame, as always happens when one is really ashamed and knows he ought to be.

On the steps is a machine-gun ready for action. The square is empty; only the streets that lead into it are jammed with people. It would be madness to go farther - the machine-gun is covering the square.

Everyone saves someone at least once. Just as he kills someone at least once. Even though he may not know it.

My rage outweighs my shame, as always happens when one is really ashamed and knows he ought to be.

No matter how improbable an assertion is, if it is made with enough assurance it has an affect.

But probably that's the way of the world - when we have finally learned something we're too old to apply it - and so it goes, wave after wave, generation after generation. No one learns anything at all from anyone else.

Strange how complicated we can make things just to avoid showing what we feel!