Dreams are only dreams until you wake up and make them real.

I wanted to tell people, "My depression is acting up today" as an excuse for not seeing them, but I never managed to pull it off.

I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad.

And I could have died right then. And considering how things went, I really should have.

I can't eat and I can't sleep. I'm not doing well in terms of being a functional human, you know?

I have a system with bathrooms. I spend a lot of time in them. They are sanctuaries, public places of peace spaced throughout the world for people like me.

We look into each other's eyes as we shake. His are still full of death and horror, but in them I see my face reflected, and inside my tiny eyes inside his, I think I see some hope.

It's such a silly little thing, the heart.

That's worst than gonerreha, man!

I waste at least an hour every day lying in bed. Then I waste time pacing. I waste time thinking. I waste time being quiet and not saying anything because I'm afraid I'll stutter.

It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare, you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.""And what is that nightmare, Craig?""Life.

Well, they've come a long way. To think that he now could access a secret document held in the Vatican archives, via electronic technology.

Peter preached about [the blood]. Paul wrote about it, and the redeemed in heaven sing about it. In a sense, the New Testament is the Book of the Blood.

The day of individual happiness has passed.

How you manage yourself as you deal with stuff in your life largely determines the quality of your life.

Wrinkles are ditches that the gods have dug for our tears.

A picture is a poem without words

I always work directly from life, partly because I really enjoy having an interaction with the person in front of me but also because I love having a direct response to shape and color.

By now all rock bands are wise enough to be suspicious of music industry scum

Poor and content, is rich and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.