under the rug

He's a bloody four-letter man

The One Charm of the Past is that it is the Past

So I went to New York to be born again

Swearing no unholy oaths

The more books they publish the weaker we become

How nice to feel nothing and still get credit for living

Now we'll try that again. I am serious

He wanted to sin with another of his kind

Satan owns the fallen world

All the lost landscapes