The rain's been racing earthwards as if with some religious or political fanaticism. The clouds have the look of dark internal bleeding. Surely you lot look up from Cosmo while this sort of thing's going on? Surely you take a Playstation break?

Pain revealed the paltry dimensions of love. The paltry dimensions of everything, in fact, except pain.

My parents believe in the happy endings to the stories of their children.

When I see gurgling retarded children (that's God's doing, by the way, not mine) happily styling their hair with their own stinking mards, I think of Adam in those pre-marital days. I know he's your great-to-the-nth-degree-granddad and all - but I'm afraid he was rather an imbecile.

Once you've stopped loving someone breaking his or her heart's just an unpleasant chore you have to get behind you. My God, you really don't love me anymore, do you? No matter your decency the victim's incredulity's potentially hilarious. You manage not to laugh.

We go to the past to lay the blame - since the past can't argue. We go to our past selves to account for our present miseries.

Kneecaps only exist to get hit with claw-hammers; grace only exists to be fallen from.