Ah, current music. What would that be? Ah, really, a lot of it sounds defective to me. It makes me restless.

I am hanging in the balance of a perfect finished plan, like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.

Anger and jealousy's all that he sells us, he's content when you're under his thumb. Madmen oppose him, but your kindness throws him, to survive it you play deaf and dumb.

Silvio, I gotta go, find out something only dead men know.

Some are masters of illusions, some are ministers of trade, all under the same delusion, all their beds unmade.

People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent.

I heard the tongues of angels and the tongues of men and it all sounded no different to me.