Words are the birds that break cover and show your enemy where you're hiding.

We make our own monsters, then fear them for what they show us about ourselves.

No, there are no special places in hell. Hell is a democracy.

Human beings take social stances, and if you’re respectful of all human beings, you have to decide what you’re going to do and why you’re going to do it.

It does no good to run. And it does no good to hide. But I know what it's like. Your brain shuts down, and you follow your instincts. Or, at least, you.

Those heart-hammering nightmares that start to lose coherence even as you're waking up from them, but that still manage to leave their moldering fingerprints all across your day.

Be yourself, until you bleed.