We hear the ambient noise of children singing. We hear lions and tigers roar. Hyenas laugh. Some jungle bird or howler monkey declares its existence, screeching a maniac's gibberish. Our entire world, always doing battle against the silence and obscurity of death.

What I mean is sometimes, for an artist, chronic pain can be a gift.

This isn't about love as in caring. This is about property as in ownership.

You humiliate a rich person and they're still rich. You humiliate a brilliant person and they're still smart. A person who is well connected is still the king of England. But if you humiliate a young person, you take away the only form of power they have.

I let go. Lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.

You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.

The only thing that separates us from the animals... is we have pornography.