I was hungry. I was cold. But I was also free. Free not to get up in the morning, not to go to bed at night, free to get drunk if I liked, to dream... to hope.

I'm sure that I've already been dead.

I want to make people cry even when they don't understand my words.

Every damn fool thing you do in this life you pay for.

I want to die young. I think it's awful to get old, and sickness is ugly.

Money? How did I lose it? I never did lose it. I just never knew where it went.

People say that I could sing the phone book and make it sound good.