I Hated The Words. Each One Was

What Interests Me Is Love, Sex, Death, Cruelty, Compassion And The Desire For Meaning In An Apparently Godless Universe. In Other Words The Human Condition.

Words Betrayed Her: Beautiful Butterflies In Her Mind; Dead Moths When She Opened Her Mouth For Their Release Into The World.

You Can't Blame Me. I Mean That Literally. You're Incapable Of Blaming Me. You're Human. Being Human Is Choosing Freedom Over Imprisonment, Autonomy Over Dependency, Liberty Over Servitude. You Can't Blame Me Because You Know (come On, Man, You've Always Known) That The Idea Of Spending Eternity With Nothing To Do Except Praise God Is Utterly Unappealing. You'd Be Catatonic After An Hour. Heaven's A Swiz Because To Get In You Have To Leave Yourself Outside. You Can't Blame Me Because -- Now Do Please Be Honest With Yourself For Once -- You'd Have Left, Too.

Nicotine And Alcohol Embraced In My System Like Long-parted Siblings, Grateful To Me For Reuniting Them.

You Think God Will Never Forgive You, But The Only God Is Beauty And Beauty Always Forgives. It Forgives With Its Infinite Indifference.