It's the only condition I know. Bitter Love, Loneliness, contempt for corruption, blind hope. It's where I live. A permanent state of bereavement. This is nothing new.

One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her~is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil?

We only have babies when we're young enough not to know how grim life turns out.

Before catechisms can instill a proper humility, small children know the truth that their own existence has caused the world to bloom into being.

In summer moonlight, she was dangerously, inebriatingly magnified.

Little critters fried like fritters come out crunchy and divine.

No one controls your destiny. Even at the very worst - there is always choice.