Every heartbeat a syllable for words I can’t speak, to explain what I want from him. What I want from myself. To know and be known, totally and completely. To be someone worth knowing.

I wonder if this is how it feels to grow old. Knowing that time is still passing but you’re no longer a part of it.

It was true—but it was harsh. And it feels like maybe a harsh truth can be as hurtful as a lie.

How much dust can a body make? Little specks of death. Measuring life in millimeters.

…dancing in the carnage and the flames.

Eyes are a deaf man’s ears. Ears are a blind man’s eyes.

By making a comeback, I'm changing the attitude of people toward me. If I'd known that people would react so enthusiastically, I'd have done it years ago.

Every pitcher can beat you, it doesn't matter how good you are.

It's hard to program a computer to make jokes. The brain needs to do something here; the brain needs to come up with something bizarre to make something funny.

The reverie would not last if it were not nourished by the images of the sweetness of living, by the illusions of happiness.

Country music and just music in general really lost a great friend today.

The great thing about human language is that it prevents us from sticking to the matter at hand.

The further through life I drift the more obvious it becomes that I am lacking in thrift.

At some point in my life I would like to win a Grammy. I think that would be a good thing to do.