Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you've felt that way.

If I bet on humanity, I'd never cash a ticket.

Where some god pissed a rain of reason to make things grow only to die.

There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see you.

Meanwhile the 3 a.m. drunks of the world would lay in their beds, trying in vain to sleep, and deserving that rest, if they could find it.

one can never be sure whether it's good poetry or bad acid

what matters most is how well you walk through the fire