What is left when there is no love? A rope and rock.

I wanted to kill them. No, not kill. "Kill" is too dull a word for that which I desired. I wanted to annihilate them. I wanted to tear them limb from limb. I wanted to crack their bones and bury my face in the wet remains. I wanted to reach inside their chests and yank out their hearts and devour the bloody meat as the last stray current twitched the muscle and watch their faces as they died.

There's death and there's loss, but there's also celebrations, right?

Aut mentem parandam, aut laqueum.

You may say suicide is a loss of control and cowardly. Foolish as it may sound, I am prepared to argue.

We just didn't execute the last couple of minutes. Against a good team, that (a loss) is what's going to happen.