The Faster It Ran Away From Me.

I Sighed; As Comforting As It May Be To Some Of Us, Sarcasm, Like Youth, Is Wasted On The Young.

Killing Makes Me Feel Good.

But As I Have Noticed On More Than One Occaision, Life Itself Is Unfair, And There Is No Complaint Department, So We Might As Well Accept Things The Way They Happen, Clean Up The Mess, And Move On.

A Reasonable Being Might Think That He And I Could Find Some Common Ground; Have A Cup Of Coffee And Compare Our Passengers, Exchange Trade Talk And Chitchat About Dismemberment Techniques. But No: Doakes Wanted Me Dead. And I Found It Difficult To Share His Point Of View.

For My Part, My Interest In Paris Had Faded Away Completely Long Ago When I Learned That It Was In France.