A really conscientious doctor ought to die with his patient. The captain goes down with his ship.
Ideologies separate us. Dreams and anguish bring us together.
To me the world seems grotesque, absurd, ridiculous, painful.
Why do people always expect authors to answer questions? I am an author because I want to ask questions. If I had answers, I'd be a politician.
Why was I born, if it wasn't forever?
Oh words, what crimes are committed in your name? ~Jack or The Submission