My philosophy is pretty simple – any day nobody’s trying to kill me is a good day in my book.

You mean you have to be epic already, for it to make you more epic?

So how did he look at me?" "Like it was his birthday and you were the cake.

Don't accuse me of being morbid when I'm merely the product of a culture that buries the bones of the ones they love in pretty, manicured flower gardens so they can keep them nearby and go talk to them whenever they feel troubled or depressed. That's morbid. Not to mention bizarre. Dogs bury bones, too.

Irony, perfect definition: that for which I want to possess it, I would no longer want once I possessed it.

Who and what we surround ourselves with is who and what we become. In the midst of good people, it is easy to be good. in the midst of bad people, it is easy to be bad.

Even I don't know what you're doing, and I know everything.