We torture and sigh and adhere to a lie.

Self-torture yields a false confession.

What tortures one delights another.

Fame tortures the soul, but obscurity completely rips the heart out.

Weak tortures; strong nurtures.

Rapport trumps torture.

The tortured lie; the befriended amplify.

Pain is our torturer; it is also our trustworthy reporter.

Unrequited love is the highest form of self-torture.

We torture our loves to test their tenacities.

The tortuosity of life; the blissification of death.

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