All the shitty stuff people do to themselves... it can all be the same thing, you know? Just a way to drown out your own voice. To kill your memories without having to kill yourself.

Soft flesh is eaten by hard teeth.

Every experience, good or bad, is a priceless collector's item.

We have to remember everything. If we don't, by the time we grow up it'll be gone forever.

We will cry and bleed and lust and love, and we will cure death. We will be the cure. Because we want it.

Here it comes. My inevitable death, ignoring me all those years when I wished for it daily, arriving only after I've decided I want to live forever.

We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.