I’m not a romantic, I’m a half-wit. Only stupid people would think I’m smart. I’m not something anyone should know. I’m a lunatic wandering around for scraps, I’m like every single miserable moron I’ve scorned and pretended I didn’t recognize. I’m all of them, every last ugly thing in a bad last-minute costume. I’m not different, not at all, not different from any other speck of a thing. I’m a blemished blemish, a ruined ruin, a stained wreck so failed I can’t see what I used to be.

I've never had a musical career. So I think it's been unaffected. I play the accordion. In terms of thinking of it as a musical career, I think it's sort of like calling yourself an astronaut because you have a shiny suit.

Chestnuts in stuffing tastes like someone chewed up a tree branch and then French-kissed it into your mouth.

A girl meets a boy, Ed, and everything changes, or so she says.

Everything else has vanished, so you take them now. Maybe if you're the one keeping them, I'll be the one feeling better.

Never look a gift lion in the mouth.

There are few sights sadder than a ruined book.