I will live because I don't believe you are going to kill me; you can't. [spoiler]Matrix much?[/spoiler]

I guess I don't count as a survivor?

Hold on let me grab the devil itself

I'll glub you if you don't kill me? :<

Do you want hot pockets by any chance

Azz Ass Come to me ass

My body is ready for ravaging.

I won the game, you lost, [spoiler]rule 1 don't talk about the game rule 2 you always lose (but I don't) [/spoiler] I win by default

[i]Hit me with your best shot Fire away![/i]

Come at me noob

I feel that this award was not made to you as a man, but to your own work - a life's work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before. So this award is only mine in trust. It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin. But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and women already dedicated to the same anguish anYou literally made Adolf Hitler get off his throne in the midst of the Flames of hell, walk in the bathroom, and sob quietly in the corner of the shower. He held a bottle of cheap whiskey in his shaking hand, no longer secure as the world most lest like able human being. d travail, among whom is already that one who will some day stand here where I am standing. Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat. He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid; and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed - love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so, he labors under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion. His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands. Until he relearns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last dingdong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure... And that is why you should not even think about killing me.

I have chocolate cookies.... ;_; Do you want some?

I have a nuke(with enough power to destroy the land mass the contains Europe, Asia, and Africa) waiting in a satellite in geosynchronous orbit, it's armed and fired by my dead-man trigger. So you'll either die killing me, or be too far away to do it [spoiler]I also have dope raps [/spoiler]

No reason to spare me at all. I'm ready. Have been for a while now.

Don't spare me. Please

You can have My massive army of relentless undead, or you can have My lightning powers.

Pls don't I'll give you a bite out of my cookie

Because i usually carry a variety of blades on me. Even had a Machete, Combat Axe, and 2 karambits IN SCHOOL once (was going to friends house) and i brought a replica uzi with permission (what school does that)

I could yell a victory screech for every kill you make, and supply rocks to throe at dead corpses. We both know its fun to throw rocks and dead people.

Wait so am I dead

I'm a cute little foxy

Can you even kill?

*sees you walking towards me* WAIT WAIT WAIT i got you this platter of cookies..... now im gonna go sit over in that corner if you need more cookies just let me know

Umm... I'll give you free Huggies...? Or help kill, it's been awhile.

I could be your hype person...the guy that stands in the background so when you tell someone you'll kill then I'll scream from the shadows hell -blam!-ing kill you

Who?