Hatred Is A Cold Fire, And It

Twenty-three Stories Up And All I Could See Out The Windows Was Grey Smog. They Could Call It The City Of The Angels If They Wanted To, But If There Were Angels Out There, They Had To Be Flying Blind.

If I Wasn't Dead Already, I'd Said I Was Having A Heart Attack.

Never Throw Stones If You Think They're Going To Come Back And Hit You.

Always Having To Have The Last Word Is A Bad Trait. Pisses People Off.

Tell That To The Btk Killer,” I Said. “he Was A Churchgoer, Raised Two Kids, Married, And Resisted The Urge To Kill For Decades. He Was A Person, But He Was A Monster, Too