Bullets don't distinguish between tough and weak.

There once were two sisters, Night and Death,
Death large, and Night small,
Night had the beauty of dreams, while Death,
Death was most lovely of all -

Hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!
Death was most lovely of all.

Give yourself time. Ideas'll come. Life'll shake you, roll you, maybe embrace you. The music'll find you.

V: Guess I meant, I dunno... a happier ending... for everyone involved.
Johnny: Here, for folks like us? Wrong city, wrong people.

What, smoking after sex not Zen enough for you? We gotta rewrite "The Art of War", too?