The living cling to life above all, but the trophy misprized is to die in peace.
The art never judges. I envy it. Life in two dimensions. Frozen in forever beauty. To watch the world go by unencumbered by the gossip and the pain of three-dimensional men.
You know when you’re drawing a cat or a house and you picture that cat or that house in your mind and it looks so perfect but you just can’t get your hand to live up to that picture in your head? That’s what it’s like to be a parent. You picture how you want to be and it’s so wonderful and flawless, but you can’t ever live up to that picture you imagined.
Someone didn’t want us in that house, and they were gonna make damn sure that we left and never came back.
It’s amazing how long a person can rationalize the irrational.
‘Tis a mother’s burden to suffer the birth of her babe, but all agony pales when placed in measure with the cold death of a child.
You think, today, prejudice is not going to rear its ugly head. But this is the South.
This house has a strange way of ripping that frat boy smile right off your face.
Watch now on:
There is no fear like the fear of losing a child. It is primal. And it’s wrenching.
The old magic and New World created something new. Something original.
Only men with full bellies have the luxury of conscience.
If thou wishes not to follow me in this life, thou will follow me in the next. We shall never leave this place. This is our land. I will soak this earth with our blood, let it mingle with the soil, tether us to these grounds forever!
