In her way, she was a hard one. Faith in any sort of natural justice was nothing but a night light; she knew of that. Whatever she did, she would end the same way with everyone does: flat on her back with a tube in her nose, wondering, "Is this all?
Fear comes with imagination, itโs a penalty, itโs the price of imagination.
I have no interest in understanding sheep, only eating them.
How seldom we recognize the sound when the bolt of our fate slides home.
I love myself that much and I will never apologize to you.
You cant reduce me to a set of influences.