You're nervous. You're a nervous talker... That's not any better, being a nervous mute.
There are moments, psychologists tell us, when the passion for sin, or for what the world calls sin, so dominates a nature, that every fibre of the body, as every cell of the brain, seems to be instinct with fearful impulses.
Men and women at such moments lose the freedom of their will.
They move to their terrible end as automatons move, Choice is taken from them, and conscience is either killed, or, if it lives at all, lives but to give rebellion its fascination, and disobedience its charm.
For all sins, as theologians weary not of reminding us, are sins of disobedience.
When that high spirit, that morning-star of evil, fell from heaven, it was as a rebel that he fell.
You are the silence in between what I thought and what I said.
Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or your self. Avoid trifling conversation.
Du schweigst,
wenn jeder andere schreit.
Du lachst,
obwohl dein Schmerz verbleibt.
Du singst dein eigenes Trauerlied,
denn Trauer ist das was du liebst.
— How you doing?
— How you doing?
— You like hockey?
— You like hockey?
— This is a big, important game.
— This is a big, important game.
— Cut the crap.
— Cut the crap.
— I'm being serious. Don't do that.
— I'm being serious. Don't do that.
— How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
— Yeah, that's what I thought. Shut up.
— Hey, drunk girl, why don't you shut your face?
— It is growing inside me like this fat hairy tumor. I need to let it out.