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The language of sin was universal, the original Esperanto.

Joe Hill

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Joe Hill
Sin
Universal
Language
Esperanto
Originals
Original

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I will die like a true-blue rebel. Don't waste any time in mourning - organize.
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Was there any human urge more pitiful-or more intense- than wanting another chance at something?
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It was something... the way a person's life picked up speed, the way a life was like a bullet aimed at one final target, impossible to slow or turn aside, and like the bullet, you were ignorant of what you were going to hit, would never know anything except the rush and the impact.
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Aren't you going to tell me I'm not so bad? she asked. Mmm-no. I was thinking how every man loves a hot girl with a history of making mistakes. Because it's always possible she'll make one with you.
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He understood that the ghost existed first and foremost within his own head. That maybe ghosts always haunted minds, not places. If he wanted to take a shot at it, he’d have to turn the barrel against his own temple.
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Gold don't come off. What's good stays good no matter how much of a beating it takes.
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It was like wondering how evil had come into the world or what happens to a person after he dies: an interesting philosophical exercise, but also curiously pointless, since evil and death happened, regardless of the why and the how and what-it-meant.
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I will be waiting by candlelight in our tree house of the mind.
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Already, though, she understood the difference between being a child and being an adult. The difference is when someone says he can keep the bad things away, a child believes him.
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There's only room for one hero in this story-and everyone knows the devil doesn't get to be the good guy.
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Terror is the desire to save your own ass, but horror is rooted in sympathy.
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I hope if there is another world, we will not be judged too harshly for the things we did wrong here—that we will at least be forgiven for the mistakes we made out of love.
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I mean, when the world comes for your children, with the knives out, it's your job to stand in the way.
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I didn't know the inner me was hungry, I said to Art. That's because it already starved to death.
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Music [is] the third rail of life. You grabbed it to shock yourself out of the dull drag of hours. To feel something. To burn with all the emotions you didn't get to experience in the ordinary run of school, TV, and loading the dishwasher after dinner.
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Taking a thing apart is always faster than putting something together. This is true of everything except marriage.
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