She had never dreamed there could be so much pain in a life when there was nothing physically wrong. She hurt all the time.

This was the Darker Life, where every truth was written backward.

I've given up thinking - it keeps getting me into trouble.

Busy as a one legged man in an ass kicking contest.

The exhilaration was hard to explain. It was a lonely feeling — a somehow melancholy feeling. He was outside; he passed on the wings of the wind, and none of the people beyond the brightly lighted squares of their windows saw him. They were inside, inside where there was light and warmth. They didn't know he had passed them; only he knew. It was a secret thing.

Good days and long nights to ya, sai.

I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye. I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind. I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart.