Is it a shame that I can’t accept love? Am I too burned out to move towards what will keep me alive or too smart to get pulled into someone else’s world?

Now and then, someone is able to look at an empty space, conclude it would be a great place to start a revolution, and bravely go forward.

Adolescence is a plague on the senses.

I was in Pakistan in Islamabad when Bhutto was assassinated, and the next day, you know, there's just plumes of smoke everywhere. I mean, Islamabad is on fire.

When you put yourself in environments that continually test you, that's where all the good stories come from. That's where the jokes come from is from the shitty parts.

I think of the thrill of an intelligent woman talking just to me.

When I think of Mick Jagger still singing that he can't get any satisfaction in over forty years of being in the Rolling Stones, I have to conclude that he's either lying or not all that bright.