Never so sweet a repast as the Reaper's when you tread upon the threshold of a Quiznos.
Fantastic shadows of birds
I have never killed anyone, but I have often read about some guy getting his ass taken out with great pleasure
The final mystery is oneself.
One's dreams must be big enough so as not to lose sight of them.
Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.