the impossibility of being human all too human this breathing in and out out and in these punks these cowards these champions these mad dogs of glory moving this little bit of light toward us impossibly.

people are not good to each other. perhaps if they were our deaths would not be so sad.

agony sometimes changes form but it never ceases for anybody.

I can almost understand why people leap from bridges.

We have wasted History like a bunch of drunks shooting dice back in the men's crapper of the local bar.

Potential," I said, "doesn't mean a thing. You've got to do it. Almost every baby in a crib has more potential than I have.

I am a series of small victories and large defeats and I am as amazed as any other that I have gotten from there to here.