He drove me home in the van, complaining, 'Women only like me for my mind'.

I called to wish you an unhappy birthday because you're evil and you lie and if you should die I may feel slightly sad, but I won't cry.

You say: 'Oh, please forgive' You say: 'Oh, live and let live.' But sorry doesn't help us. Sorry will not save us. Sorry is just a word you find so easy to say (so you say it anyway). Sorry doesn't help us. Sorry won't protect us. Sorry won't undo all the good gone wrong.

I have seen one or two psychiatrists. They just sit and nod and doodle.

I have forgiven Jesus for all of the love he placed in me, when there's no one I can turn to with this love.

I always thought my genitals were the result of some crude practical joke.

I think I'm a realist. Which people who don't like me consider to be pessimism. It isn't pessimism at all. If I was a pessimist I wouldn't get up, I wouldn't shave, I wouldn't watch Batman at 7:30 a.m. Pessimists just don't do that sort of thing.