Fuck this. Fuck this wondering. Fuck this trying and trying. Fuck this belief that two people can become one ideal. Fuck this helplessness. Fuck this waiting for something to happen that probably won't ever happen.
I didn't let her go. She went. It's not my fault. She did it. She could undo it. This is feeling so fucking famliar. Why do we even bother? Why do we make ourselves so open to such easy damage? Is it all loneliness? Is it all fear? Of is it just to experience those narcotic moments of belonging with someone else?
That's the problem with this whole country. Fucking vast prosperity. No one has any real problems anymore. Ninety percent of the damn politicians in this town either think there's no war on terror, or if we'd just be nice to these zealots they'll leave us alone. Well, that ain't going to fucking happen. The Huns are circling, and we're sitting around arguing about gay rights and prayer and guns and global warming and all kinds of bullshit. These idiots will eventually wake up to the threat, but by then it might be too late. (Stan Hurley)
En un mundo donde millones de personas creen que su deidad concibio un hijo mortal con una humana virgen, es asombrosa la poca imaginacion que muestra la mayoria de la gente.
She looked at me again, and the sweet and shy Nicole disappeared. Her eyes blazed. she said. As Nicole raged, the hair on my neck prickled, because in her eyes, I saw madness. Obsession and madness. You're crazy, I thought. Did they do this to you with their experiments? Or is this just you? I started inching back. she said. She screamed, a long drawn-out shriek of feigned terror.