When We Don't Know Who To Hate,

Anytime My Work Can Coax Bodily Fluids Out Of Someone, I'm Happy.

The Future You Have, Tomorrow, Won't Be The Same Future You Had, Yesterday.

Most People Would Never Admit It, But They'd Been Bitching Since They Were Born. As Soon As Their Head Popped Out Into That Bright Delivery-room Light, Nothing Had Been Right. Nothing Had Been As Comfortable Or Felt So Good. Just The Effort It Took To Keep Your Stupid Physical Body Alive, Just Finding Food And Cooking It And Dishwashing, The Keeping Warm And Bathing And Sleeping, The Walking And Bowel Movements And Ingrown Hairs, It Was All Getting To Be Too Much Work.

The On­ly Thing I Know Is Ev­ery­thing You Love Will Die.

The Voice Says, Maybe You Don't Go To Hell For The Things You Do. Maybe You Go To Hell For The Things You Don't Do. The Things You Don't Finish.