He Had Tattooed All Of

If This Is What You Do To The Winner, I'd Hate To See How You Treat The Runner Up.

He Didn't Want To Remember Anymore. Remembering Only Hurt Him... Everytime.

Statues Lined The Stairs And Stood, Dotted Across The Roof. But They Had Been Brutalized By Time And The Weather. Some Were Missing Arms. Many Had No Faces. Once They Had Been Saints And Angels. Two Hundred Years Standing In London Had Turned Them Into Cripples.

He Died Fighting For What He Believed In.

…my Life Has Been A Remarkable One. Maybe One Day Someone Will Write A Book About Me . . .” "i’ve Never Much Cared For Horror Stories.