They'd smash up the world if they thought it would make a pretty noise.

Theres no stink more sorrorful than the stink of wet, burnt paper. It means: the end.

If Not You, Who Else?

There was a man and he had eight sons. Apart from that, he was nothing more than a comma on the page of History. It's sad, but that's all you can say about some people.

A good man will kill you with hardly a word.

Little crimes breed big crimes. You smile at little crimes and then big crimes blow your head off.

She'd become a governess. It was one of the few jobs a known lady could do. And she'd taken to it well. She'd sworn that if she did indeed ever find herself dancing on rooftops with chimney sweeps she'd beat herself to death with her own umbrella.