There’s a stake in your fat black heart  And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you.  They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.

Hef ég drepið mann eða hef ég ekki drepið mann? Hver hefur drepið mann og hver hefur ekki drepið mann? Hvenær drepur maður mann og hvenær drepur maður ekki mann? Fari í helvíti sem ég drap mann. Og þó.

Why is it that what we really want to keep private becomes public,
 while the things that we want others to know remain private?

she likes being good, and I like being happy.

Written By Edith Wharton

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