Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.

Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out.

How about a kiss, Saumensch?

The Gunman is useless. I know it. He knows it. The whole bank knows it.

So much good, so much evil. Just add water.

I traveled the globe as always, handing souls to the conveyor belt of eternity.

I'd rather chase the sun than wait for it.