Rich men have dreams. Poor men die to make them come true.

Where there is no waste, there is no want.

If one chooses sides on emotion then the rebel is the guy to go with. He is fighting for everything men claim to honour, freedom, independance, truth, the right.......all the subjective illusions. All the eternal trigger words. We are minions of the villan of the piece. We confess the illusion and deny the substance.

There is no vengeance as terrible as the vengeance a coward plots in the dark of his heart.

I guess I suffer from an impoverishment of the sociopathic spirit necessary to go big time.

Write. Don't talk about writing. Don't tell me about your wonderful story ideas. Don't give me a bunch of "somedays." Plant your ass and scribble, type, keyboard. If you have any talent at all, it will leak out despite your failure to pay attention in English.

I'm a bad man. I need to understand the past. It illuminates the present.