Worry is a mean-faced dwarf who beats on your heart like a kettledrum.
I can't stop thinking like this.
Rincewind tried to force the memory out of his mind, but it was rather enjoying itself there, terrorizing the other occupants and kicking over the furniture.
I should start charging uncomfortable thoughts rent. Except what would they pay me in? Probably something even worse.
Dear Die-ary, today I stuffed some dolls full of dead rats I put in the blender. I'm wondering if, maybe, there really is something wrong with me.
Some things, it was better not to think about. It just made you mad and angry.
Haymitch in my head full-time. Horrifying
O, full of scorpions is my mind!
I always imagine babies crying.
