A strange girl asked me where everyone had gone.
"Night’s black; morning, red. There’s nothing else."
Nausea & Nightshade
All these creatures spend their time explaining, realizing happily that they agree with each other. Meanwhile, I feel Fucked To Death.
Like One Long Joke
"I have to try and think what an artist is, apart from a hooligan who cannot live within his income of praise."
Déjà Vu in the Desert of the Real
"I’m twenty-five years old and I don’t understand what it is that people do. It’s as if all this were built on nothing, and nothing were holding this together. And then I hear people talk, and that just makes things worse."