Richard K. Morgan
A preoccupation with the next world clearly shows an inability to cope credibly with
this one.
We all get our dreams stamped on from time to time, right? And if it didn’t hurt, what kind of second-rate dreams would they be
If they asked how I died tell them: Still angry.
The way I see it, anyone who's proud of their country is either a thug or just hasn't read enough history yet
When they ask how I died, tell them: still angry.
It was the single forgiving phrase in the syntax of weaponry I had strapped about me. The rest were unequivocal sentences of death.
The echo of the first shot, like the first sip of whiskey, burning...