But I Knew One More Thing. That

I Almost Said, You're Not Broken, You're Just Going Through Something. But I Couldn't. She Knew. There Was Something Terribly Wrong With Her, All The Way Inside. She Was Like A Big Diamond With A Dead Spot In The Middle. I Was Supposed To Breathe Life Into That Dead Spot, But It Hadn't Worked.

Her Scruffy Innoscense To Impregnate With His Dreams. Reason Was Seductive, It Gave The Appearance Of Truth

Pick A Better Verb. Most People Use Twenty Verbs To Describe Everything From A Run In Their Stocking To The Explosion Of An A-bomb.

At Every Moment, Each Instrument Knew What To Play. Its Little Bit. But None Could See The Whole Thing Like This, All At Once, Only Its Own Part. Just Like Life. Each Person Was Like A Line Of Music, But Nobody Knew What The Symphony Sounded Like. Only The Conductor Had The Whole Score.

If Evil Means To Be Self-motivated, To Be The Center Of One’s Own Universe, To Live On One’s Own Terms, Then Every Artist, Every Thinker, Every Original Mind, Is Evil.