Don't talk to me about people who are 'nice' cause I have spent my whole life in ruins because of people who are 'nice'.

I can get incredibly erotic about blotting paper.

It was probably nothing, but it felt like the world.

How can anybody say they know how I feel? The only one around here who is me, is ME.

I see the world, it makes me puke, But then I look at you and know, that somewhere there's a someone who can soothe me.

I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar.

I think I must be, absolutely, a total sex object. In every sense of the word.