You start out with the sublime and you end up in an alley jerking away for dear life.
Life is 440 horsepower in a 2-cylinder engine.
I like the one about the little soulworms that fly out of the nest for the resurrection.
I'm an egotist, but I'm not selfish. There's a difference. I'm a neurotic, I guess. I can't stop thinking about myself. It isn't that I think myself so important. I simply can't think about anything else, that's all.
Music is a beautiful opiate, if you don't take it too seriously.
Words, sentences, ideas, no matter how subtle or ingenious, the maddest flights of poetry, the most profound dreams, the most hallucinating visions, are but crude hieroglyphs chiseled in pain and sorrow to commemorate an event which is untransmissible.