As the components of your life are stripped away, after all the ambitions and hopes vaporize, you reach a self-reflective starkness-- the repetitious plucking of a single overwound string.

When I was in my teens, I made an appraisal of how comfortable my life could turn out when I became the age I am now. Because of a mechanical failure, the prediction was inexact.

Stressful jobs, loveless marriages, bad food-most people kill themselves slowly every day.

If I want to build wealth to transfer to the next generation, I can let it grow on a tax-free basis.

The masses-I love em-they rush for red lights, risking everything to capture a few seconds, only to get home and waste their lives.

I lay in bed and watched moments break into phenomenal particles of panic and could actually see the divine crack of God’s ass as he completely turned his back on me.

Although I didn't write myself off as a complete failure, all illusion and romance was gone. I was no longer able to inflate myself; I had disappointed my own expectations and was genuinely worried about dying in the streets.