Why I do this is to put adventure back into people’s lives. Why I do this is to create heroes. Put people to the test.
The faster the dead could be honored, the faster they could be forgotten.
What makes the earth feel like Hell is our expectation that it ought to feel like Heaven. Earth is earth. Hell is Hell.
Ya que no puedo ser hermosa, quiero ser invisible.
This is way out of bounds. I said you could rape me. I did not say you could ruin my panty-hose.
Porque tener hijos es el opio del pueblo.
Primero los padres te dan la vida, pero luego intentan imponerte la suya.
Somebody saves your life, and they’ll love you forever. It’s that old Chinese custom where if somebody saves your life, they’re responsible for you forever. It’s as if now you’re their child.
It’s easy to cry when you realize that everyone you love will reject you or die. On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone will drop to zero.
You’re the proof of their courage. The proof they were a hero. Evidence of their success. I do this because everybody wants to save a human life with a hundred people watching.
If I can’t be a great doctor saving hundreds of patients, this way I’m a great patient creating hundreds of would-be doctors.
The single-breasted cut is symmetrical except for the hole pumping out blood.
That’s why I do all this. Go to all this trouble. To showcase just one brave stranger. To save just one more person from boredom. It’s not just for the money. It’s not just for the adoration. But neither one hurts.
Even the garden of Eden was just a big fancy cage... You’ll be a slave the rest of your life unless you bite the apple.
Well, I guess if Jesus could die for my sins, I suppose I can soak up a few for other people. We all get our chance to play scapegoat. Take the blame. The martyrdom of Saint Me. The sins of every man in history landing square on my back.
As I readied these luxuriant ablutions, my dearest Katherine said, ‘Webster, my darling, the pints of love essence you erupt at the peak of oral passion taste more intoxicating than even the richest European chocolate.’ My beloved belched demurely into her fist, swallowed and said, ‘All women should taste your delicious emissions.
Deseaba respirar humo.
With a gun stuck in your mouth and the barrel of the gun between your teeth, you can only talk in vowels. We’re.
Would it be so bad? To be the last two people in the world?” His hand slips around, wraps around Miss Sneezy’s limp fingers, and Mr. Whittier says, “Why can’t the world end the same way it started?
The music and laughter eat away at your thoughts.