Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day.
Beautiful women are the torment of my existence.
It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.
And they would all smile at the beauty of destruction.
My arms are killing me. I didn't know words could be so heavy.
There was also a rumor that later in the day, she walked fully clothed into the Amper River and said something very strange. Something about a kiss. Something about a Saumensch. How many times did she have to say goodbye?