I like the groups on Factory, A Certain Ratio and Section 25. I

Existence is.. well.. what does it matter? I exist on the best terms I can. The past is now part of my future. The present is well out of hand.

Reality is only a term, based on values and well worn principles, whereas the dream goes on forever.

I struggle between what I know is right in my own mind, and some warped truthfulness as seen through other people's eyes who have no heart, and can't see the difference anyway.

When routine bites hard, and ambitions are low. When resentment rides high, but emotion won't grow...and we're changing our ways, taking different roads. Love will tear us apart.

We're changing our ways, taking different roads, and love will tear us apart again.

I used to work in a factory and I was really happy because I could daydream all day.

Pictures all around, of how good a life should be, a model for the rest, that bred insecurity, I walked a jagged line and then came back for more, it's always in my mind, an institution with no law.

All my lyrics are open to interpretation by the individual and imply many different meanings, therefore their relevance is purely subjective.

Well, subconsciously I suppose some things must stick but I'm not influenced consciously by them.

Love, love will tear us apart, again.

Begin each day with positive affirmations.

There are no crown-bearers in heaven who were not cross-bearers here below.

Getting lost teaches you how to read a map.

Language always betrays us, tells the truth when we want to lie, and dissolves into formlessness when we would most like to be precise.

Fight back! Whenever you are offered violence, fight back! The aggressor does not fear the law, so he must be taught to fear you. Whatever the risk, and at whatever the cost, fight back!

The pimp is the executive organ of immorality. The executive organ of morality is the blackmailer.

I can assuredly say that it's my life's mission to love all people.

Johnny Depp is, to me, a rare kindred spirit with like sensibilities, who has escaped the beast. He's probably one of the few people that have survived Los Angeles as a human being.

I'm a novelist, not a social scientist or a commentator.

Every day, I walk with my dog - summer, winter (it gets -20 F in Saint Paul), rain or shine. The nicer the day, of course, the longer the walk.