Darkness can be funny. It can be quirky. There are different ways that that stuff comes out as a creative person. But the actual conflicted, twisted, decaying, rotting soul? That's not me. No more.

The trouble with asking questions is you sometimes get answers you don't wanna hear.

When You've lost it all....thats when you realize that Life is Beautiful.

If you don’t deal with your demons, they will deal with you, and it’s gonna hurt.

Don't waste your death on a half assed life

Rock and Roll's got to be like Jack Daniels. You've got to feel it burn.

Addiction - When you can give up something any time, as long as it's next Tuesday.

I've got so many mountains to climb and goals to conquer. I've got so many scars I want to leave on the planet. I just feel like I'm not there yet. I feel like I am just getting started.

Perfection is unattainable, so I like to live in imperfection.

I had to find the courage to turn my life around.

There is nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home. When you've lost it all, that's when you finally realize that life is beautiful.

We see answers to prayer all around us.our home, family, children, healing, life, love, are all answers to prayer.

Happiness is absolutely a feeling and a state of well-being, but the key to happiness is understanding that it is created through action.

All the works of man have their origin in creative fantasy. What right have we then to depreciate imagination.

Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul.

All the really successful, happy relationships that I know of, the people that are together are friends, anyways.

A broom sweeps clean, and itself becomes soiled; cleanse yourself of those offenses of which you may feel guilty.

Wealth stays with us a little moment if at all: only our characters are steadfast, not our gold.

Could one imagine a stone's having consciousness? And if anyone can do so-why should that not merely prove that such image-mongery is of no interest to us?

When a man marries a widow his jealousies revert to the past: no man is as good as his wife says her first husband was

How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.