Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.

Every religion lies. Every moral precept is a delusion. Even the stars are a mirage. The truth is darkness, and the only thing that matters is making a statement before one enters it. Cutting the skin of the world and leaving a scar. That's all history is, after all: scar tissue.

It's hard enough for a person to keep their own socks pulled up, let alone someone else's.

Your hair is winter fire January embers My heart burns there, too.

The color white is the absence of memory.

And didn't they say that, although curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought the beast back?

Working with him was sort of like trying to defuse a bomb with somebody standing behind you and every now and then clashing a pair of cymbals together. In a word, upsetting.