“...you can be angry and silent, but it's no use - there's no distance in the spirit - besides, my words touch you more softly than my hands...”

“Your heart is beating so fast,” he said softly, the words barely more than a whisper. “I can feel your blood humming under my hand. Are you frightened of me?”

“Isn't it funny. I'm enjoying my hatred so much more than I ever enjoyed love. Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands. Love uses you, changes its mind. But hatred, now, that's something you can use. Sculpt. Wield. It's hard, or soft, however you need it. Love humiliates you, but Hatred cradles you.”

“I'm angry at the lies that hide behind my eyesBut untangling them scares me, so I keep them alive.I'm angry at the chip in my tooth and the crick in my back,And the fact that it's too late to change my track.I'm angry that my heart beat is a stutter and my mouth follows suit And that the rain seeps in through the holes in my bootsI'm angry that not one of you will know what I meanEven if I break it into syllables and put it on a screenI'm angry that the world keeps its answers under lock and keyIf it's revealing them to anyone, it sure isn't meI'm angry that there's more of us on Earth than there has been beforeAnd though it's doubtful we can take it, people still want moreI'm angry at the idleness that you call industryCall it caution, call it planning, but it looks like lethargy I'm angry that my friends are strangers, even after we meetAs though we know we'll never ever see the other one's streetI'm angry that we hide behind the media-sphereThough all of us are present, there is nobody hereI'm angry that the world demands I stay on the ballI'm angry that I'm not angry-- at all.”

“Sometimes a soft touch can accomplish more than a thousand swords.”

“Besides, you think I'm not used to hurting? For me, it's home sweet home, my brother.”