On the day of my judgment, when I stand before God, and He asks me why did I kill one of his true miracles, what am I gonna say? That it was my job? My job?

The devil's voice is sweet to hear.

What you don’t know, you can’t tell. Or made to tell.

Pray for rain while digging a well.

I like to think that good people win. But even good people have other sides. Most people will slow down to get a good look at an accident, even though they won't admit it.

Now panic beats and flutters inside my skull like a flock of starlings locked in an attic.

Don't give me what I ask for, give me what I need.