Music From Another Room

"Oh to hell with you, my fine fool death.

I will not go weakly like an obedient child or a quivering bride, no.

He'll have to mount me like an intractable whore. And drag me kicking and screaming, the miserable son of a bitch!"


I am going to memorize these words, and they shall be the last ones I say. Then, when you speak of me you can say that "she was witty yet unoriginal, may she rest in peace."