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i'll have to dance with cassie

@petrellipeters-blog / petrellipeters-blog.tumblr.com

Where does it come from? This quest, this need to solve life's mysteries when the simplest of questions can never be answered. Why are we here? What is the soul? Why do we dream? Perhaps we'd be better off not looking at all.
"An Englishman of noble birth, Edward was a young man with fine attainments. He was a scholar. He was a poet. Musician of rare ability. He had another face on the back of his head. Hideous as the devil. No one else could hear what it said, but it whispered to Edward incessantly of things only spoken in hell. He tried to kill it. Many times in many ways. But it wouldn’t die. He went mad. It was telling him to do things. Commanding him… Legend has it that even in death, the demon face was smiling."

I’m a massive daydreamer. I’m constantly lost within my own fantasies and my own thoughts personally, and I think maybe that is sort of represented in what we do for a living, the fact that we make believe everything and we escape into these other characters for a living.

My parents believed a new asylum would bring hope to Gotham. Now that’s gone. Everything they worked for is now falling into the hands of criminals. Not everything. You’re alive. It’s not too late. Do you really believe that?

Source: mihtrandir

And here we have Ed’s reaction to a woman’s bones disintegrating as she slowly suffocates and dies from a mysterious drug right before his very eyes.