Everyone on this island wants something kept quiet. I want to roar
I've given him more mixed signals than a dyslexic Morse code operator.
It broke the spell. It's not that I stopped being happy. I was still inexplicably, utterly happy. But suddenly the happiness had implications.
Wherever I went, I was on the wrong end of the stampede.
The reward is in the risk.
We believe in the wrong things. That's what frustrates me the most. Not the lack of belief, but the belief in the wrong things. You want meaning? Well, the meanings are out there. We're just so damn good at reading them wrong.