Only the liar knows he's lying

I always hated when my scars started to fade, because as long as I could still see them, I knew why I was hurting.

Violence up close has a smell. Like copper blood and charcoal burning.

The truth was, history repeated itself on a daily basis; mistakes were made over and over. People were haunted by what they had done, and by what they hadn't had time to do.

May be you had to come close to losing something before you could remember its value.

The problem isn’t with rock lyrics, it’s with the fabric of this society itself.

I've never been in love, but I've always imagined it--weirdly--like some sort of OxiClean commercial. The TV host shows a scene from an ordinary day, and then takes a big old sponge soaked in love and swipes away the stains. Suddenly that same scene is missing all the mistakes, all the loneliness. The colors are like jewels, ten times richer than they were before. The music is louder and clearer. "Love," the host will say, "makes life a little brighter.