I know everything about everything and before I dry off completely, which is something I truly hate, you better go outside, collect Trates, and have both your asses out of here or I’m going to lose what little patience I have. You will play by the rules I’ve set up for sanctuary, or I’ll use your entrails for armbands. (Savitar)

Be the season of happiness, be  the reason of kindness.

And presently I was driving through the drizzle of the dying day, with the windshield wipers in full action but unable to cope with my tears.

Written By Vladimir Nabokov

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