Life is like a great jazz riff. You sense the end the very moment you were wanting it to go on forever.

Sundays are terrible because it is clear that there is no one in charge of the world. And this knowledge leave you drifting around, grappling with unfulfilled expectations and vague yearnings.

The trouble with going crazy is that you have to go around making it up to everyone afterwards. It seems they should be making something up to you.

Californians are good at planning for the earthquake, while simultaneously denying it will happen.

You can always trust information given you by people who are crazy; they have an access to truth not available through regular channels.

Some of my best friends are illusions. Been sustaining me for years.

It's expectation that differentiates you from the dead.