What’s a friendly game of cards when your day job is facing the prince of darkness?
Pride. Pride’s the bad boy. It sneaks up on you, because it doesn’t feel like a sin.
Call me old-fashioned, but I think our vices should leave a rotten taste in our mouth. Helps keep us honest. That’s what God invented the hangover for.
You wanna reclaim your family, you gotta let your mother go.
You wanna fight the devil, start by cleaning your f*****g act up.
What is the Devil? The sum of our fears? Maybe whatever these things are, we just needed to give them a name.
The battle is coming. Unless we’re prepared, that darkness will spew forth with the reek of a sewer drowning us in its corruption. We will choke on it, gag on it, and then the black pit of hell will await us all.
One of the things that sucks about this job is that everybody wants something from you.
Nothing exposes a man’s true nature like a good old game of poker.
It’s not every day you get to punch the devil in the face.
It’s no secret what I do. Everybody knows it needs to be done. Nobody really wants to see what’s behind the curtain.
If you’d seen what I’d seen, you’d know that people need to be riled up.
