I'd Storm Heaven For You, If I

I Know Girls Who Pine For It. They Like To Play Dress-up And Pretend Being Vor Ladies Of Old, Rescued From Menace By Romantic Vor Youths. For Some Reason They Never Play 'dying In Childbirth', Or 'vomiting Your Guts Out From The Red Dysentery', Or 'weaving Till You Go Blind And Crippled From Arthritis And Dye Poisoning', Or 'infanticide'. Well, They Do Die Romantically Of Disease Sometimes, But Somehow It's Always An Illness That Makes You Interestingly Pale And Everyone Sorry And Doesn't Involve Losing Bowel Control.

You Have To Be Careful Who You Let Define Your Good.

I Don't Want Power. I Just Object To Idiots Having Power Over Me.

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

Growing Up, I Have Discovered Over Time, Is Rather Like Housework: Never Finished.