“slaps you once in a while
and you live and love in pain.”

Only Women Bleed, Tori Amos Recommended by Tiffany.

“Before we left, I found one of the doctors who had helped me and quietly asked him to slit my throat.”

Twisted, Laurie Halse Anderson

“She was just a like a rose, beautiful, fragile and innocent, but when he hit her, when he touched her, did she wither and die away, just like when the first frost comes over and kills off all the flowers.”

Anonymous

“The murder exists like a stone inside of her that she won't be free of, until she hoists it out by the killing. She isn't afraid as much as she is disturbingly calm. She knows it won't be hard for her. When she became a mother, she felt what an animal must feel, the deep pain calcifying into an animalistic protectiveness. It was after giving birth, holding her children, that she felt the most tender and the most capable of murder.”

The Madam, Julianna Baggott

“I am the wound and the knife!
I am the blow and the cheek!
I am the limbs and the wheel--
The victim and the executioner!”

L'Héautontimorouménos, Charles Baudelaire

“I just want someone to pummel me into submission
This incurable fascination with being totally beaten up
I just want someone to slap me right in the mouth.”

Mamacita, Blonde Redhead Recommended by Mea Culpa.

“here lies clarity, in a perfect grave
comprised of perfect steel, the perfect blade
was a perfect white against the perfect lines, from last perfect night
I'm the perfect picture of complacency
...and that's all I feel
slow motion replaces real time
as the horror fills their eyes
these claws will never kill again

the lines I wear around my wrist
are there to prove that I exist

I am a monster, clothed in crimson sleeves
and perforated lines where my wrists should be”

Purging, Boys Night Out

“If some kid watches Buffy the Vampire Slayer and then blows the high school up, then goddammit... start parenting better.”

Nicholas Brendon

“His son was long-necked and delicate. He was light, airy, made from the quills of a bird. He was white and frail. He had a triangular face, a thin nose, archer's-bow lips, a fine pointed chin. The eyes were so clean and unprotected, like freshly peeled fruit. It was a face that trusted you completely, made you light in the heart at the very moment it placed on you the full weight of responsibility for its protection. Not even the red hair, that frizzy nest which grew outwards, horizontal like a windblown tree in an Italianate painting, this hair did not suggest anything as self-protective as 'temper'.

He should not have hit him.”

Oscar and Lucinda, Peter Carey

“She had found the Prince Rupert's Glassworks deserted, its crucible gone grey and lifeless, the metal set hard inside them. Under the glass blower's wooden throne she found a miaowing kitten with pus-filled eyes and paralysed back legs, a creature in so parlous a state that Lucinda, dressed in an ostrich-feathered hat and expensive black gloves, must take a heavy poker and, with her face twisted, her eyes closed, kill it. She felt the crunch travel up her arm.

When the kitten was a soiled and lifeless rag, she leaned the murdering bar against the throne. She thought: I had the strength.

And although she was mostly shaken by what she had done, there was a small part of her that was proud.”

Oscar And Lucinda, Peter Carey

“Twenty-four hours a day somebody is running, somebody else is trying to catch him. Out there in the night of a thousand crimes people were dying, being maimed, cut by flying glass, crushed against steering wheels or under heavy car tires. People were being beaten, robbed, strangled, raped, and murdered. People were hungry, sick, bored, desperate with loneliness or remorse or fear, angry, cruel, feverish, shaken by sobs. A city no worse than others, a city rich and vigorous and full of pride, a city lost and beaten and full of emptiness.”

The Long Goodbye, Raymond Chandler

“She was only seventeen
And forced to blame it on herself
As she hides away to tame the pain she feels
She was thrown to a scene
A drunken man without a will
And a god that makes mistakes
And still pretends

---

She was only trying to breathe
Her broken nails had sliced his skin
As he bruised her face she fades away again
When she came to at the scene
A fevered wind and a match in hand
As she watched the flames she felt alive again”

Sad Happy, Cold

“All crimes should be treasured
If they bring thee pleasure somehow.”

Brought Thee Orchids, Cradle of Filth

“Greed is for amateurs. Disorder, Chaos, Anarchy... Now that's fun!”

The Crow [movie]

“Victims - aren't we all?”

The Crow [movie]

“You were leaving as I
was leaving and so I
tried before that great
leaving to grant you
the greatest gift of all.
The purest gift of all.
The gift to end all gifts.

I kissed your cheeks and your head and after awhile put my hands around your throat. How red your face got even then as your tiny and oh so delicate hands stayed clamped around my wrists. But you did not struggle as I anticipated. You probably understood what I was doing for you. You were probably grateful. Yes, you were grateful.”

The Whalestoe Letters, Mark Z. Danielewski

“...there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there. It is hard for me to make sense on any given level. Myself is fabricated, an aberration. I am a noncontingent human being. My personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago (probably at Harvard) if they ever did exist. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed. Yet I am blameless. Each model of human behavior must be assumed to have some validity. Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this and I have countless times, in just about every act I've committed and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new understanding can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant nothing...”

American Psycho, Bret Easton Ellis

“Yes I think it's safe to say:

I feel good about the sin
That I inflict on my own skin
I pay money to cut and burn
Pictures like lessons
That I need to learn

I see faces on the ceiling
I see them move
I hear them singing
I lay down laughing here by myself
And think about the time that I spent in hell.”

When It All Goes Wrong Again, Everclear Recommended by Suzanne.

“Dear Diary. My teen angst bullshit has a body count!”

Heathers [movie]

“If you're going to be shot, whose side do you expect me to be on?”

Catch-22, Joseph Heller

“Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime.”

Ernest Hemingway

“They wrote in the old days that it is sweet and fitting to die for ones country. But in modern war there is nothing sweet nor fitting in your dying. You will die like a dog for no good reason.”

Notes on the Next War: A Serious Topical Letter, Ernest Hemingway

“Evil is a point of view. God kills indiscriminately and so shall we. For no creatures under God are as we are, none so like him as ourselves.”

Interview With The Vampire [movie]

“I enjoy it. Take your aesthetes, tastes, pure things, kill them swiftly if you will, but do it! For do not doubt, you are a killer, Louis!”

Interview With The Vampire [movie]

“Do not fear your enemies. The worst they can do is kill you. Do not fear friends. At worst, they may betray you. Fear those who do not care; they neither kill nor betray, but betrayal and murder exists because of their silent consent.”

Bruno Jasienski (Yasensky)