Denounce me for advocating freedom if you can, and I will bear your curse with a better resignation.
If there is a will, there is always a way my friend
By now you know what I liked most was the hunt, the challenge of what the thing was. The killing for me was secondary. I got no rise as such out of it. . . for the most part. But the figuring it out, the challenge -- the stalking and doing it right, successfully -- that excited me a lot. The greater the odds against me, the more juice I got out of it.
Assassin?. . . that sounds so exotic. . . i was just a murderer
My mother was cancer. She slowly destroyed everything around her. She produced two killers; me and my brother Joe.
I'd never hurt a woman or a child. It's just not in me.
Really, just looking around, you feel a twinge of pity for the poor souls who succeeded in getting past the Pearly Gates. One can't help but picture the lackluster VIP lounge in Heaven, a kind of nonalcoholic ice-cream social starring Harriet Beecher Stowe and Mahatma Gandhi. Hardly anyone's idea of a "with-it" social register.
The day I stop feeling the pressure and I'm just enjoying myself and taking it easy is when I'm 35, asking for a wild card and playing mixed doubles with Arnaud Clement.
In the name of sense, man, if God made fish to be eaten, what difference does it make if I enjoy the killing of them before I eat them? You would have none but a fisherman by trade do it, and then you would have him utter a sigh, a prayer, and a pious ejaculation at each cod or haddock that he killed.
Katie Lane is a wonderful new voice in Western romance fiction.