The terror takes you. The cage is locked and the curtain drawn. Fingers dance along as blades, carving memories into your flesh that will leave scars long past being healed.

A nightmare has taken hold of my body. Lunacy has dug its way inside my mind.

Alone with thoughts of what should have long been forgotten, I let myself be carried away into the silent screams of delirium.

I’m a stranger behind the same set of eyes that the girl in the photo holds.

I am going to look at the stars. They are so far away, and their light takes so long to reach us. All we ever see of stars are their old photographs.

I choose my friends for their good looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their good intellects.

Morino: What does the kidnapper do with those things?Yuka: Those things?Morino: You know, the stinky things with four legs that make a lot of

Men was formed for society, and is neither capable of living alone, nor has the courage to do it.

Everybody hears, but few listen.

how peaceful a bedroom is without a man in it.

A litle wind kindles; much puts out the fire.

Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing, which remark I guess shows I still don't have a pure motive (O it's-such-fun-I-just-can't-stop-who-cares-if-it's-published-or-read) about writing.

To know when one's self is interested, is the first condition of interesting other people.

One of the most responsible things you can do as an adult is to become more of a child.