Telephone message on his manager's answering machine shortly before dying of heroin overdose: I need help bad, man.

I've been imitated so well I've heard people copy my mistakes.

Now if six turned up to be nine, I don't mind, I don't mind.

Lots of the things we do are dangerous, but life itself is dangerous; nothing is really worth bothering with that isn't full of danger

There'll be no smoking in the gas chamber.

Anger he smiles, towering in shiny metallic purple armor. Queen Jealousy, envy waits behind him, her fiery green gown sneers at the grassy ground.

If 6 turned out to be 9, I don't mind.