I mean I don't think I'm alone when I look at the homeless person or the bum or the psychotic or the drunk or the drug addict or the criminal and see their baby pictures in my mind's eye. You don't think they were cute like every other baby?
One thing about being successful is that I stopped being afraid of dying....
But the wicked passions of men's hearts alone seem strong enough to leave...
Being on your own would be sad sick and weird. I don't trust myself. I need that balance.
