I want life and in all its stupid sticky rawness.

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

It's hard to take your life so seriously when you can see it all at once.

Is this muteness a real physical handicap? One of the many symptoms of being Dead?Or do we just have nothing left to say?

What wonderful thing didn't start out scary?

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

In my mind I am eloquent; I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, everything collapses.