Revenge: it's a dream of flames fueled by scorched remains that are lit to a torch and brought back upon the one who burned you.

When James Wan is out there the horror is real, no doubt about that Check out for own proof if you have guts Sinister 1,2... Insidious 1,2...

Do we take less pride in the possession of our home because its walls were built by some unknown carpenter, its tapestries woven by some unknown weaver on a far Oriental shore, in some antique time? No. We show our home to our friends with the pride as if it were our home, which it is. Why then should we take less pride when reading a book written by some long-dead author? Is it not our book just as much, or even more so, than theirs? So the landowner says, __ook at my beautiful home! Isn__ it fine?_ And not, __ook at the home so-and-so has built._ Thus we shouldn__ cry, __ook what so-and-so has written. What a genius so-and-so is!_ But rather, __ook at what I have read! Am I not a genius? Have I not invented these pages? The walls of this universe, did I not build? The souls of these characters, did I not weave?

And when I think about it, I guess it is true that people always arrive at the right moment at the place where someone awaits them

To sense the peace of extinguished passionHappiness in not knowing the ultimate knowledge

The stage is a magic circle where only the most real things happen, a neutral territory outside the jurisdiction of Fate where stars may be crossed with impunity. A truer and more real place does not exist in all the universe.