Character: C. W. (Charles Weston)

The women I loved always accused me of selfishness. This is my selfishness attracts and then repels them away from me. You know what they take for selfishness? It's not that I paint differently, live differently, speak differently, - that they have nothing. They like, even exciting. But they hate it when I don't like that they are not able to get their way.

Critics love to talk about the highest achievements in the art of writing. Utter nonsense, empty talk. The art of brutally. Words can help you avoid penalties, even if you have committed murder.

If you grew up in a working environment, even if it's not pushing, not standing in your way. The same applies to any class, wherever you went, because to limit its consciousness of class - stupid and primitive.

This is a new form of poverty. Those nothing for the soul, and these no soul.

Little Bush of Rowan - Rowan already.

- All men are scoundrels.
I replied, just meaner that they are able to smile, admitting it.