We Don’t Even Ask Happiness, Just A

People Were Usually Much Better In Their Letters Than In Reality. They Were Much Like Poets In This Way.

Courts Are Places Where The Ending Is Written First And All That Precedes Is Simply Vaudeville.

There Are Policemen In The Street And Angels In The Clouds

If Something Burns Your Soul With Purpose And Desire, It’s Your Duty To Be Reduced To Ashes By It. Any Other Form Of Existence Will Be Yet Another Dull Book In The Library Of Life.

The Impossibility Of Being Human All Too Human This Breathing In And Out Out And In These Punks These Cowards These Champions These Mad Dogs Of Glory Moving This Little Bit Of Light Toward Us Impossibly.