I don't have a television set up [in the mountains], of course, but I find I don't miss it at all, or the newspaper. I've sneaked a radio into by cabin, but I find I turn it on very rarely.
I guess you go for nothing, if you really want to go that far.
The older I get, the surer I am that I'm not running the show.
There are a few things that deal with passion. There's Prozac.
You've got a deadline. Well, I do, too: death.
And what can I tell you, my brother, my killer, what can I possibly say? I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you, I'm glad you stood in my way