I don't like nostalgia unless it's mine.

I'm tearing down Route 80 East, the sun's on my right side. I'm drunk, but my vision's good.

I don't think anybody is anybody else's moral compass. Maybe listening to my music is not the best idea if you live a very constricted life. Or maybe it is.

The heart says what only the heart knows.

I don't like nostalgia unless it's mine.

The sickness of the mother runs on through the girl, leaving her small and helpless. Liquor flies through her brain with the force of a gun, leaving her running in circles.

I can concentrate on my art.