The Ratman Froze, Staring At Me. "why

I Know That Look, Blake. You Are A Drowning Woman, And The Only Way Out Is Down The Aisle.

I Try To Be A Good Cop. I Try To Be A Good Little Soldier And Follow Orders Up To A Point. But In The End I’m Not Really A Cop, Or A Soldier. I Am A Legally Sanctioned Murderer. I Am The Executioner.

Seventy Percent Of A First Draft Is Garbage And 30 Percent Is Gold, But You Have To Write 100 Percent To Get That 30.

-please, Anita, Go Home, And Don’t Freak. Just Go Home, And Be Happy. Be Happy, And Let Everyone Around You Be Happy. Is That So Hard? When Jason Said It Like That, It Didn’t Seem Hard. In Fact, It Seemed To Make A Lot Of Sense, But Inside, It Felt Hard. Inside It Felt Like The Hardest Thing In The World. To Just Let Go, And Not Pick Everything To Death. To Just Let Go And Enjoy What You Had. To Just Let Go And Not Make Everybody Around You Miserable With Your Own Internal Dialogue. To Just Let Go And Be Happy. So Simple. So Difficult. So Terrifying.

He's No More Human Than I Am, Ma Petite." At Least I'm Not Dead." That Can Be Remedied.