The heart wants what it wants.
If there is reincarnation, I'd like to come back as Warren Beatty's fingertips.
I love nature, I just don't want to get any of it on me.
I came home one night, some month ago, and I went to the closet in my bedroom...and a moth ate my sports jacket. He was laying on the floor, nauseous, y'know.
I can't express anger. I grow a tumor instead.
It is impossible to experience one's death objectively and still carry a tune.