I Don’t Duel, Boy. I Kill As

My Dinner Party,' Miles Grated. 'it's Just Breaking Up.' And Sinking. All Souls Feared Lost.

I'm Sorry. I Can Love You. I Can Grieve For You, Or With You. I Can Share Your Pain. But I Cannot Judge You.

Adulthood Isn't An Award They'll Give You For Being A Good Child. You Can Waste Years, Trying To Get Someone To Give That Respect To You, As Though It Were A Sort Of Promotion Or Raise In Pay. If Only You Do Enough, If Only You Are Good Enough. No. You Have To Just Take It. Give It To Yourself, I Suppose. Say, I'm Sorry You Feel Like That And Walk Away. But That's Hard

If You Desire A Man To Tell You Comfortable Lies About Your Prowess, And So Fetter Any Hope Of True Excellence, I'm Sure You May Find One Anywhere. Not All Prisons Are Made Of Iron Bars. Some Are Made Of Feather Beds.

A Weapon Is A Device For Making Your Enemy Change His Mind.