You Might Question A Winkle

A Life Without Love Is Like A Tree Without Fruit.

The Overlook Was Still Not Done With Him. Written On The Mirror, Not In Lipstick But In Blood, Was A Single Word: Redrum

Twas Something Else. I Had Come To Hate Her, You See. I Had Come To Wish Her Dead, And That Was What Held Me Back.

I Think Of Fear As A Survival Function, And In The Stories That I Write, The Only Thing That I've Tried To Do Is Provide People With Nightmares Which Are Really Safe Places To Put Those Fears For A While Because You Can Say Afterwards That Uh, That, That Well It Was All Just Make-believe Anyway, So I Just Took My Emotions For A Walk.

You Learned To Accept, Or You Ended Up In A Small Room Writing Letters Home With Crayolas.