I Refuse To Spend My

The Only Rule I Have Found To Have Any Validity In Writing Is Not To Bore Yourself.

Hell Must Be A Place Where You Are Only Allowed To Read What You Agree With.

We Don't Know Much About The Human Conscience, Except That It Is Soluble In Alcohol.

I'd Been Told Of All The Things You're Meant To Feel When Your Father Dies. Sudden Freedom, Growing Up, The End Of Dependence, The Step Into The Sunlight When No One Is Taller Than You And You're In No One's Shadow. I Know What I Felt. Lonely.

Check-ups Are, In My Experience, A Grave Mistake; All They Do Is Allow The Quack Of Your Choice To Tell You That You Have Some Sort Of Complaint That You Were Far Happier Not Knowing About.