The Language Of Sin Was Universal, The

Aren't You Going To Tell Me I'm Not So Bad? She Asked. Mmm-no. I Was Thinking How Every Man Loves A Hot Girl With A History Of Making Mistakes. Because It's Always Possible She'll Make One With You.

I Will Die Like A True-blue Rebel. Don't Waste Any Time In Mourning - Organize.

Pick A Sin We Can Both Live With, Is What I Ask.

It Bewildered Ig, The Idea That A Person Could Not Be Interested In Music. It Was Like Not Being Interested In Happiness.

I See God Now As An Unimaginative Writer Of Popular Fictions, Someone Who Builds Stories Around Sadistic And Graceless Plots, Narratives That Exist Only To Express His Terror Of A Woman's Power To Choose Who And How To Love, To Redefine Love As She Sees Fit, Not As God Thinks It Ought To Be. The Author Is Unworthy Of His Own Characters.