My good intentions are completely lethal.

You aren't sick & unhappy only alive & stuck with it.

Vanity is becoming a nuisance, I can see why women give it up, eventually. But I'm not ready for that yet.

Some cleric putting a match to her. /Neither of them looks happy about it. /Once lit, she'll burn like a book, /like a book that was ever finished, /like a locked-up library.

I think calling it climate change is rather limiting. I would rather call it the everything change.

There's always something to occupy the inquiring mind.

If we were all on trial for our thoughts, we would all be hanged.