My life has been about living like a monk and looking like a priest so that people will come up to me and tell me their most appalling stories. They have to make their confession to somebody, and it might as well be me.

Those who remember the past tend to get the story really screwed up.

In light this bright, after so long in the dark, everything we can see is only black and white. Only glaring shape-outlines we have to blink against.

Everyone has something wrong. And for a while, her heart just sort of flat lined.

It's easy to attack and destroy an act of creation. It's a lot more difficult to perform one.

My point is, that if I'm honest, my life is all about me.

Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known.