I don't do anything. My life sucks.

One morning I woke up and found my favorite pigeon, Julius, had died I was devastated and was gonna use his crate as my stickball bat to honor him. I left the crate on my stoop and went in to get something and I returned to see the sanitation man put the crate into the crusher. I rushed him and caught him flush on the temple with a titanic right hand he was out cold, convulsing on the floor like an infantile retard.

If he's not dead, it doesn't count.

You have to have a bunch of dimensions [of yourself]. You have to be able to adapt in this world. You can't be a nice guy living in a world of savages.

I think the average person thinks I'm a nut and I deserve whatever happens to me.

I know at times I come across like a Neanderthal or a babbling idiot, but I like that person.

Everybody you fight is not your enemy and everybody who helps you is not your friend.