Death is funny, when you think about it. Everybody does it, but nobody knows how, exactly how.

I scared myself, because once you've thought long and hard enough about doing something that is colossally stupid, you feel like you've actually done it, and then you're never quite sure what your limits are.

I was good at digging holes. It was the rest of life I sucked at.

Gossip is the foul smell from the Devil's backside.

I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So, how can I find my way? Is there a chain saw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears?

He says a million things without saying a word. I have never heard a more eloquent silence.

I watch the Eruptions. Mount Dad, long dormant, now considered armed and dangerous. Mount Saint Mom, oozing lava, spitting flame. Warn the villagers to run into the sea.