Sooner Or Later A Black Car Came

It Was Something... The Way A Person's Life Picked Up Speed, The Way A Life Was Like A Bullet Aimed At One Final Target, Impossible To Slow Or Turn Aside, And Like The Bullet, You Were Ignorant Of What You Were Going To Hit, Would Never Know Anything Except The Rush And The Impact.

There's Only Room For One Hero In This Story-and Everyone Knows The Devil Doesn't Get To Be The Good Guy.

She Just Knew That Even When You Had Nothing, You Still Had Love.

All The World Is Made Of Music. We Are All Strings On A Lyre. We Resonate. We Sing Together.

Horror Was Rooted In Sympathy . . . In Understanding What It Would Be Like To Suffer The Worst.