I shave my face like a car. I speed through car washes, but I brake for love.
Chapter 1:I suggest you icksnay on the artalecsmay.
Our love was soggy, like the biscuits I forgot to take out of the bathtub.
My love is in the shape of a car, and when it hits you you’ll notice.
Love in a box. It’s a gift—for both of us, from both of us.
When one is two, it is love, and one plus one equals three.
Love one person at a time, that’s the motto I’ll try to get my clones to live by.
What is pink, blurry, and always leaving when you’re arriving? Love.
Nationalism is a silly cock crowing on his own dunghill.