The spectator is a dying animal.

I'll never wake up in a good mood again. I'm tired of these stinky boots

The best songs just come unasked for. You don't have to think about them. Summer is a good time for songs.

The world we suggest is a new wild west. A sensuous evil world. Strange and haunting, the path of the sun.

Tell them you came, and saw, and looked into my eyes and saw the shadow of the guard receding. Thoughts in time and out of season, the hitchinker stood by the side of the road and levelled his thumb in the calm calculus of reason. [...] Why does my mind circle around you? Why do planets wonder what it would be like to be you? All your soft wild promises were words, birds, endlessly in flight.

How can I set free anyone who doesn't have the guts to stand up alone and declare his own freedom? I think it's a lie - people claim they want to be free - everybody insists that freedom is what they want the most, the most sacred and precious thing a man can possess. But that's bullshit! People are terrified to be set free - they hold on to their chains. They fight anyone who tries to break those chains. It's their securityHow can they expect me or anyone else to set them free if they don't really want to be free?

The time you wait subtracts the joy The heads the angel you destroy