How sweet terror is, not a single line, or a ray of morning sunlight fails to contain the sweetness of anguish.
“Everything about me is a contradiction, and so is everything about everybody else. We are made out of oppositions; we live between two poles. There’s a philistine and an aesthete in all of us, and a murderer and a saint. You don’t reconcile the poles. You just recognize them.”
Orson Welles