Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind, Reality's dark dream! I turn from you, and listen to the wind.

Never rebel for the sake of rebelling, but always rebel for the sake of truth.

Doesn't it always boil down to pain?

If thinking and reason crack under pressure of emotional convulsions or when commissioned facts are resulting from fibs and fake constructions, truth may be in great peril. ( ”Blame storming”)

That's the way progress works: the more we build up these vast repertoires of scientific and technological understanding, the more we conceal them.

What is the poem, after it is written? That is the question. Not where it came from or why.

What you believe about you impacts you more than what others believe about you.

Adult life is dealing with an enormous amount of questions that don't have answers.

Every week for me was the same audience, and every week they heckled me. The better I got at comedy, the better the audience was at heckling me. But it helped me with my joke writing.

I'm extremely critical. I don't consider myself a performance artist. I balk at the term performance art.

Heaven is high, Earth Wide. Bitter between them flies my sorrow.