Heroes Don't Get Anything But Dead.

It Would Be Nice If You’d Stop Almost Killing Me Because You Don’t Want To Screw Other Peo­ple.

There's No One So Self-righteous As Someone Policing Someone Else's Morality.

I Stared At Jean-claude And It Wasn't The Beauty Of Him That Made Me Love Him, It Was Just Him. It Was Love Made Up Of A Thousand Touches, A Million Conversations, A Trillion Shared Looks. A Love Made Up Of Danger Shared, Enemies Conquered, A Determination To Neither Of Us Would Change The Other, Even If We Could. I Love Jean-claude, All Of Him, Because If I Took Away The Machiavellian Plottings, The Labyrinth Of His Mind, It Would Lessen Him, Make Him Someone Else.

Pretend Hard Enough And Maybe It Will Go Away.

There Had To Be A Circle Of Hell Where You Were Eternally Fourteen, Eternally In Junior High. One Of The Lower Circles.