I'll remember your apocalypse if you'll remember mineIt will be a holiday of the senses

I would like to write a suicide note in three and a halflanguagesand travel south on a Thursday towardssome form of life outside of earth

My angels are jellyfish, electric, nearly invisible, armed with poisoned harpoons.My archangels are yellow tang.They feed on sunlight.They speak through color.Anything in their paths turns blind.

When we have to change an opinion about any one, we charge heavily to his account the inconvenience he thereby causes us.

I guess us folks in California are kind of straitlaced and old-fashioned."Hahaha, I thought on the way downstairs. I never thought I'd say those words with a straight face...

Remember, you are expressing the techniques and not doing the techniques.

I’d prefer to see both knees on the ground. I mean, if you’re going to grovel, be the best groveler you can, right?

A little child born yesterday A thing on mother's milk and kisses fed.

Adults talk about being happy because largely they are not.

I didn't understand how to get a practice space or buy gear - I never thought I could do any of that - let alone get in front of people and play the songs.

People are complicated. Our behavior towards one another is strange. So I like opportunities to investigate that.

Glamour really has to do with good lighting, doesn't it?

I hate jealousy. At least it's its own punishment; it makes me feel like hell.