I have a face like a washrag. I sing love songs and carry steel. I would rather die than cry. I can't stand hounds can't live without them. I hang my head against the white refrigerator and want to scream like the last weeping of life forever but I am bigger than the mountains.

Those faces you see every day on the streets were not created entirely without hope: be kind to them: like you they have not escaped.

I felt I had to win. It seemed very important. I didn't know why it was important and I kept thinking, why do I think this is so important? And another part of me answered, just because it is.

If there are junk yards in hell, love is the dog that guards the gates.

and the color in my eyes has gone back into the sea.

I wasn’t lonely. I experienced no self-pity. I was just caught up in a life in which I could find no meaning.

Great art is horseshit, buy tacos.