Because everything that goes around comes around. Maybe it’s luck or maybe it’s fate, but either way, it comes back around.
Chetta believed that most people who worked in the arts were high-functioning schizophrenics, and she was no different.
I’m not scared of hell. I lived a decent life, and I don’t think there is such a place, anyway. I’m scared there’s nothing. There was nothing before, we all know that, so doesn’t it stand to reason that there’s nothing after?