When we love someone, we're held hostage by fate, because if we lose that person, then we, too, are lost.
This was Greater Los Angeles in an age of change, crackling with the energy of doom, yearning for the Apocalypse, where an unintended slight or an inadvertent trespass on someone else's turf might result in a thermonuclear response.
We hold each other hostage to our eccentricities. I smiled again, an unseen smile. We're made for each other.
Regardless of how rough we may appear on the exterior, each of us had a human heart.
Ideas shouldn't matter more than people.
If evil geniuses are so rare, why do so many bad people get away with so many crimes against their fellow citizens, and, when they become leaders of nations, against humanity?