We May All Deserve Hell, But Some

The Day Henry Made A Choice... That Some Men Are Just Too Interesting To Die.

My Sisters And I Cannot Spend Any Substantial Time Searching For Wickham, As We Are Each Commanded By His Majesty To Defend Hertfordshire From All Enemies Until Such Time As We Are Dead, Rendered Lame, Or Married.

All I Ask Is That My Final Months Be Happy Ones, And That I Be Permitted A Husband Who Will See To My Proper Christian Beheading And Burial.

I Would Much Prefer Their Minds To Be Engaged In The Deadly Arts Than Clouded With Dreams Of Marriage And Fortune, As Your Own So Clearly Is!

I Think Zombies Have Always Been An Easy Metaphor For Hard Times. Because They're This Big, Faceless, Brainless Group Of Evil Things That Will Work Tirelessly To Destroy You And Think Of Nothing Else.