...but that was the thing about reality. It didn't need to make sense.

Sometimes in the news, "luck" is just a matter of "capitalizing on someone else's pain.

...but that was the thing about reality. It didn't need to make sense.

Since Dominic's been sleeping with me, the mice have been trying various labels on him, looking for one that fits. My personal favorite was the week they spent calling him "the God of Absolutely Never Smiling, No, Not Ever.

My mother once told me that no women is naked when she comes equipped with a bad mood and a steady glare.

George, she says it's the truth that matters. We live and die for the chance to maybe tell a little bit of the truth, maybe shame the Devil just a little bit before we go.

They come to us, these restless dead, Shrouds woven from the words of men, With trumpets sounding overhead (The walls of hope have grown so thin And all our vaunted innocence Has withered in this endless frost) That promise little recompense For all we risk, for all we've lost.