There isn't enough room. I'm made up of blood and flesh. I'm filled up with secrets. There isn't room for a soul, not even for a little while.
I'll scratch your eyes out! I'll rip your throat out! I'll never be good. I can't be good. The wickedness is already inside. Can't you smell it? Can't you feel it?
I don't have the coins for the boatman. We'll all have to pay for the mess.