No one owns life, but anyone who can pick up a frying pan owns death.

Nobody owns life, but anyone who can pick up a frying pan owns death.

When I become death, death is the seed from which I grow.

when I become death. Death is the seed from which I grow.

Silence is only frightening to people who are compulsively verbalizing.

All the filth and horror, fear, hate disease and death of human history flows between you and the Western Lands.