Only the ghosts in this house are glad we’re here.
The storm is getting closer.
The soil in a man’s heart is stonier.
Okay don’t tell anyone,
but there are these buildings
all over the country where
secret knowledge is kept.
I don’t think we were that powerful Julie,
you’re giving us way too much credit.
My idea of Heaven is a solid white
nightclub with me as a headliner.
Shall we summon the writer?
He’s in Paris.