“Yeah, who cares who lives or dies in prison? We read the names in the morning paper and they mean nothing to us. They’re faceless. Truth is, we don’t wanna put a face on ‘em. We don’t want to know who they really are. Because then it might hit too close to home, and home is what it’s all about, right? Making a home no matter where you are, no matter who you are. At the end of the day, everybody wants somewhere to rest, somewhere to lay their bones, even if it’s in a land called Oz. Yeah, like Dorothy says when she wakes up in her own bed back at Aunt Em’s, “There’s no place like home.” There’s no fucking place like home.” —
“You swat at a fly, step on an ant, squash a cockroach, you don’t think much of it. In fact, killing a bug gives you a sense of accomplishment. Fucking ant was ruining your picnic, cockroach was crawling through your kitchen cabinets. You put an end to their disgusting, miserable little lives and make a better world for everyone. Only, for every one you kill, more appear. Bigger, uglier, meaner than before.” —
who loves my besides me ?