Life equals running and when we stop running maybe that's how we'll know life is finally finished.

Men lie, and they lie to theirselves worst of all.

We are the choices we make. And have to make. We aren’t anything else.

I remember the ache I used to feel when she got too close, how it felt like grief, how it felt like a loss, like I was falling, falling into nothing, how it clenched me up and made me want to weep, made me actually weep.

Here is the boy, drowning.

And too much informayshun can drive a man mad. Too much informayshun becomes just Noise. And it never, never stops.

Do we hate paradise so much we need to make sure it becomes a trash heap?