Narrating Incredible Things As Though They Were

But The Real, Tremendous Truth Is This: Suffering Serves No Purpose Whatever.

Don't You Know That What Happens To You Once Always Happens Again? You Always React In The Same Way To The Same Thing. It's No Accident When You Make A Mess. Then You Do It Again. It's Called Destiny.

Because, To Despise Money, One Must Have Plenty Of It.

The Face Of The Night Will Be An Old Wound That Reopens Each Evening, Impassive And Living. The Distant Silence Will Ache Like A Soul, Mute, In The Dark. We'll Speak To The Night As It's Whispering Softly.

Misfortunes Cannot Suffice To Make A Fool Into An Intelligent Man.