A belly full of compromise leaves you queasy.
Turpitude fosters further shameful actions.
A glance forward, then two steps back.
Addicted to the agony of being your adversary.
As deadly as a rusty sabre.
Playing solitaire while watching a church service.
Turn left at Moravia.
Reasons remain when the ghettos burst.
Move on if you’re serious.
There is no future in getting everything done.