Animals do it largely for the REPRODUCTION, but so-called Social Animals (People) do it regularly thinking that it will give them SATISFACTION.
Did god make man too perfect,
So that a piece has to be removed
On a nightstand in a teenager’s room, a glass vase filled with violets leans precariously against a wall. The only thing saving the vase from a thousand-piece death on the hardwood floor is the groove in the nightstand’s surface that catches the bottom of vase, and of course the wall itself. The violets, nearly a week old, droop in the light of a waning gibbous moon. Wrinkled petals are already piling up on the floor between the nightstand and the wall, and a girl only six days sixteen stares at the dying bouquet from her bed.
I’ve been fighting with Acorn, alongside Acorn, on issues you care about, my entire career.
The love between a man and a woman acts like a mousetrap to lure a man towards a woman enticing him like a pure cheese, but is secretly tied with a strap.
There are certain people in whom you can detect the seeds of madness – seeds that have remained dormant only because the people in question have lived relatively comfortable, middle class lives. They function perfectly well in the world, but you can imagine, given a nasty parent, or a prolonged bout of unemployment, how their potential for craziness might have been realized.
Ever see moors murderer Ian Brady, study his photos, study Black, study Cannon, study Sutcliffe – study them all! Who says evil is not recognisable?
Your own brain ought to have the decency to be on your side!
I got both hands on her throat and there was nothing inside me but the black madness of that desire to kill her, to close my hands until she turned purple and lay still and there’d be an end to her forever. Let them send me to the chair. Let ’em burn me. All they could do was kill me.
Weird how I can feel so frail and tiny sometimes, and other times so brave and bold and reckless and free, and . . . Does everybody feel the same? When people get grown-up, do they always feel grown-up and sensible and sorted out and . . . And do I want to feel grown-up? Do I want to stop feeling . . . paradoxical, nonsensical? Do I want to stop being crackers? Do I want to be destrangified? O yes, sometimes I want nothing more – but it only lasts a moment, then O I want to be the strangest and crakerest of everybody.