I don't know why: it doesn't matter. But it's no lie or pretense clever I love the girl, and need her here... it calms my mind and soothes my fear It's not the things she has to say
I am the American devil: the barbarian, the war-monger, the self-serving capitalist, the spoiled libertine Dressed in comfortable clothes made in terrible sweat-shops
That's how it starts: a depressive, over-disciplined intellectual, usually not even yet a man You take the edge off of your mind (breaks from the world and its petty grind)
I carry neither sword nor gun and my calling leaves me little use for one But generation upon generation of Norsemen swim in my veins, and war-like and fatal is the slant of my brain
Yes, he did the deed and such a deed as a devil might... and that only under cloak of night But no devil is Polanski and neither human, he, at least not in the way of most humanity