← And they'll wheel us on the cart through all their hate and their laughing and their disgusting smells until we reach the scaffold. 🔊✎
← And the wheel's just spinning round. 🔊✎
← Do you think you've got time for these fancy thoughts, to know if you should say "yes" or "no", to ask yourself if you're paying too much, if you can still feel like a man afterwards? You grab the wheel, you face the mountain of water in front of you, you yell an order and you fire into the crowd, on the first man who moves forward. Into the crowd! It doesn't have a name. 🔊✎
← It's like the wave that comes crashing down on the bridge under your nose; the wind whipping you, and the thing that falls down when you shoot don't have names. Maybe it's the guy who gave you a light and smiled yesterday. He doesn't have a name. And you don't have a name either, clinging to the wheel. Only the boat and the storm have names. 🔊✎