I believe I've passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage. I've found that just surviving is a noble fight. I once believed in causes too; I had my pointless points of view. And life went on no matter who as wrong or right.

No end to sorrow, caused by the same endless fears. Why can't we learn from all we've been through after two thousand years?

I'm not the kind of guy who wants to be on a pedestal.

My friends and I are crazy. That's the only thing that keeps us sane!

I don't belong in limos or private jets or on stage with people cheering me but that's what's kept me grounded because I know it's not right.

I have been both praised and criticized. The criticism stung, but the praise sometimes bothered me even more. To have received such praise and honors has always been puzzling to me.

Forced to recognize our inhumanity, our reason coexists with our insanity. And though we choose between reality and madness, it's either sadness or euphoria.