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Broadmoor creeps into your blood, the walls touch the sky and the grounds suck you in, they__e even got their own burial ground. We called it the __adman__ hole_, it smelt of fear; a stillness and even the birds seemed to have a stone face like their eyes were made of marble. So many monsters, men of hell, I don__ know how a sane man can keep sane in there.
Stephen Richards Insanity: My Mad Life
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Broadmoor creeps into your blood, the walls touch the sky and the grounds suck you in, they__e even got their own burial ground. We called it the __adman__ hole_, it smelt of fear; a stillness and even the birds seemed to have a stone face like their eyes were made of marble. So many monsters, men of hell, I don__ know how a sane man can keep sane in there.

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