Maybe eventually winter will finish our job for us and end the world in ice instead of blood.

Even as I think them, the words lose their context, dissolve into grains of absurdity in the vast ocean of day-to-day hunger.

I’m alone, stumbling through the city in the dark, trying not to let the night freeze my blood.

You can order yourself to treasure a moment, to cling tight to a feeling and never let it fade, but it’s your brain, that three-pound lump of hamburger, that makes the final call.

The ethics of eating people are blurry at best in the fog of my undead amnesia, but I expect more for such a high price. What I want are the moments I will never have. The warm ones. The living ones.

Whatever satisfies the soul is truth.

I close my eyes and think about the only thing that makes life worth the trials: Emma Kingsley, her sweet smile, and the laugh that make me believe in a future.

I read somewhere once that getting lost is the best way to find yourself.

By unspoken agreement, we all picked an invisible line in the cracked asphalt and toed it.

MEDIOCRITY IS A CHOICE... PROCRASTINATION IS A VIRUS THE FIRST ERROR IS INDECISION

I need that aggressive attitude to play my music and more men have that attitude than women.

Now so many really good groups who have had a first major hit can't get a deal for a second one.

When a doubt is once received, men labour rather how to keep it a doubt still, than how to solve it; and accordingly bend their wits.

Black-and-whit e always looks modern, whatever that word means.

I'm going to miss everybody but unfortunately... it's time to go