I had cooperated. I could not have refused. I was smitten with her, half in love but also afraid, because in my life (and she seemed to know this) I had not loved anyone without having been wounded. Love was power and possession, love caused pain: you were never more exposed than when you were in love, never more wounded; possession was an enslavement, something stifling.

Whether you are black or white 
Rich or poor 
Short or tall 
Ugly or beautiful 
We are all victims of death 
Death made everyone in life equal

Plus, I am paranoid by nature. I need to be in control.

An' it all just amounts to what you tell yourself.

Written By John Steinbeck

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