I'm An American. We're A People Diseased

I Don’t Know Where The Universe Came From Or What Happens To Creatures When They Die. I Don’t Know If The Whole Thing’s An Unravelling Accident Or An Inscrutable Design. I Don’t Know How One Should Live—but I Know That One Should Live, If One Can Possibly Bear It.

Kneecaps Only Exist To Get Hit With Claw-hammers; Grace Only Exists To Be Fallen From.

Every Present Anger Derives From Past Weakness.

One Day The Ordinariness Will Be Terminally Punctuated By The Extraordinary Full Stop Of Death.

That's What Happens When You Keep A Secret From Someone You Love: You Start To Hate Them For Allowing You To Prove Your Own Willingness To Deceive Them.