You can wipe your feet on me, twist my motives around all you like, you can dump millstones on my head and drown me in the river, but you can’t get me out of the story. I’m the plot, babe, and don’t ever forget it.

You refuse to own yourself, you permit others to do it for you

War is what happens when language fails.

What am I living for and what am I dying for are the same question.

You can wipe your feet on me, twist my motives around all you like, you can dump millstones on my head and drown me in the river, but you can’t get me out of the story. I’m the plot, babe, and don’t ever forget it.

Genres aren't closed boxes. Stuff flows back and forth across the borders all the time.

­Do back exercises. Pain is distracting.