Rain in the graveyard, and the world puddled into blurred reflections.

I liked myths. They weren't adult stories and they weren't children's stories. They were better than that. They just were.

There are a number of paths that lead to this place. I have been avoiding them for some small time, now.

There's an expression, deja vu, that means that you feel like you've been somewhere before, that you've somehow already dreamed it or experienced it in your mind.

We do not always remember the things that do no credit to us. We justify them, cover them in bright lies or with the thick dust of forgetfulness.

I suppose the point you grow up is the point you let the dreams go.

The only reason people die, is because EVERYONE does it. You all just go along with it. It's RUBBISH, death. It's STUPID. I don't want nothing to do with it.