These flowers will be rotten in a couple hours. Birds will crap on them. The smoke here will make them stink, and tomorrow a bulldozer will probably run over them, but for right now they are so beautiful.

We've taken the world apart but we have no idea what to do with the pieces.

The only person we'll hate more than each other is ourselves.

There's a terrible dark joy when the only person who knows all your secrets is finally dead.

You realize that there's no point in doing anything if nobody's watching. You wonder, if there had been a low turnout at the crucifixion, would they have rescheduled?

Have your adventures, make your mistakes, and choose your friends poorly -- all these make for great stories.

It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.