Enemies will kill you with a knife in the back. Friends will kill you with kindness. Either way you're dead.

When you're born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire. But it's not.

This is where you first failed us. You gave us minds and told us not to think. You gave us curiosity and put a booby-trapped tree right in front of us. You gave us sex and told us not to do it. You played three-card monte with our souls from day one, and when we couldn't find the queen, you sent us to Hell to be tortured for eternity. That was your great plan for humanity? All you gave us here was daisies and fairy tales and you acted like that was enough. How were we supposed to resist evil when you didn't even tell us about it?

The place looks like where David Lynch would meet Beaver Cleaver's mom for secret afternoons of bondage and milkshakes.

Don't talk. Kill it." That might be the sweetest thing a woman's ever said to me on a first date.

The ashes of your existence will fertilize the soil for the universe to follow.

The universe is a meat grinder and we're just pork in designer shoes, keeping busy so we can pretend we're not all headed for the sausage factory. Maybe I've been hallucinating this whole time and there is no Heaven and Hell. Instead of having to choose between God and the devil, maybe our only real choice comes down to link or patty?