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The language of sin was universal, the original Esperanto.

Joe Hill

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Joe Hill
Originals
Original
Sin
Universal
Language
Esperanto

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When you think about it, most of the good ideas came along to make sin a whole lot easier.
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Men, she thought, were one of the world's few sure comforts, like a fire on a cold October night, like cocoa, like broken-in-slippers. Their clumsy affections, their bristly faces, and their willingness to do what needed to be done - cook an omelette, change lightbulbs, make with hugging - sometimes almost made being a woman fun.
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Innocence ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, you know. Innocent little kids rip the wings off flies, because they don’t know any better. That’s innocence
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Some things you didn't give away, no matter how much you owed.
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Workers of the world awaken. Break your chains, demand your rights. All the wealth you make is taken, by exploiting parasites. Shall you kneel in deep submission from your cradle to your grave? Is the height of your ambition to be a good and willing slave?
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I guess Satan was the first superhero [...] In his first adventure, he took the form of a snake to free two prisoners being held naked in a Third World jungle prison by an all-powerful megalomaniac. At the same time, he broadened their diet and introduced them to their own sexuality.
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I will be waiting by candlelight in our tree house of the mind.
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I want you to remember what was good in me, not what was most awful. The people you love should be allowed to keep their worst to themselves.
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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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Was there any human urge more pitiful-or more intense- than wanting another chance at something?
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Her sanity was a fragile thing, a butterfly cupped in her hands, that she carried with her everywhere, afraid of what would happen if she let it go-or got careless and crushed it.
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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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Horror was rooted in sympathy . . . in understanding what it would be like to suffer the worst.
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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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Don't mourn, Organise
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Who knows what may lie around the next corner? There may be a window somewhere ahead. It may look out on a field of sunflowers.
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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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Work and pray, live on hay, youll get pie in the sky when you die.
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You know someone for a while and then one day a hole opens underneath them, and they fall out of your world.
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