The radio makes hideous sounds.

I failed to communicate, that's why I chose to leave

It goes back to the destiny thing.I made a bargain with it, you know, a long time ago. And I'm holding up my end.

I'm speaking for all of us. I'm the spokesman for a generation.

Night can swallow you up, yet none of it touches you. Around any corner, there's a promise of something daring and ideal and things are just getting going. There's something obscenely joyful behind every door, either that or somebody crying with their head in in their hands. A lazy rhythm looms in the dreamy air and the atmosphere pulsates with bygone duels, past-life romance, comrades requesting comrades to aid them in some way. You can't see it, but you know it's there

You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.

If I had wings, no one would ask me: should I fly?