• The rain fell like dead bullets

    Scott Nicholson
  • Then on your tombstone, where you only get a little bit of space to sum up your life, some wax-faced creep chisels a set of meaningless numbers instead of poetry or a secret love or the name of your favorite candy. In the end, all you get is a few words

    Scott Nicholson
  • Some artists are normal people who just happen to make things because we can't figure out how in the hell to communicate with people

    Scott Nicholson
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