If every time the blood is poured out it is poured out for the remission of sins, I ought to receive it always, that my sins may always be forgiven me.

I never thought I was a bad person. I just thought I was the one good person living in a world of bad people.

Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.

There are three things in this world that will survive a nuclear explosion: Twinkies, cockroaches and Dean Ambroses.

I am actually as good as everybody else pretends to be. It's scary.

I've got ice water running through my veins, I'm cool.

No one heals himself by wounding another.

I am an unstoppable killing machine. I am the greatest champion that ever walked the face of this planet.

Our own evil inclinations are far more dangerous than any external enemies.

There's no, 'Oh my God, somebody else is gonna come back and take my spot.' I wanna have a spot that's my spot, that nobody can take away, because nobody else is me.

The rich man who gives to the poor does not bestow alms but pays a debt.

Maybe...you'll fall in love with me all over again.""Hell, " I said, "I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?""Yes. I want to ruin you.""Good, " I said. "That's what I want too.

Don't let anybody make you think God chose America as His divine messianic force to be a sort of policeman of the whole world.

However, please allow me to say that the fundamental style of my writing has been to start from my personal matters and then to link it up with society, the state and the world.

The United States government, in figuring our gross national product, defines 'durable goods' as anything that will last three years.

My mind becomes tired, and perhaps some of yours do. If so, go and exercise your bodies.

I really do force myself to not be fully engaged with all the technology at once, just because I have an addictive personality and I get too into it.

None knew thee but to love thee.

The message from the hedge-leaves, Heed it, whoso thou art; Under lowly eaves Lives the happy heart.

Dweller in yon dungeon dark, Hangman of creation, mark! Who in widow weeds appears, Laden with unhonoured years, Noosing with care a bursting purse, Baited with many a deadly curse?

Charlie took my hand and, in a symbol as old as the world, placed it in Edward’s. I touched the cool miracle of his skin, and I was home.