Like a cartoon world, where the figures are flat and outlined in black, jerking through some kind of goofy story that might be real funny if it weren't for the cartoon figures being real guys.

I sometimes have these spells of compulsive truth. But as Lady Macbeth would say, "The fit is momentary."

Billy here has been talkin' about slicin' his wrists again, so is there seven of you guys who'd like to join him and make it therapeutic?

Ocean, Ocean I'll beat you in the end.

The need for mystery is greater than the need for an answer.

Always stay in your own movie.

It's time to move on to the next step in the psychedelic revolution. We've reached a certain point, but we're not moving any more.