It's Redundant To Die In Los Angeles.

But I'm Not A Saint Yet. I'm An Alcoholic. I'm A Drug Addict. I'm Homosexual. I'm A Genius.

She Sounds The Way Bananas Taste.

Aprils Have Never Meant Much To Me, Autumns Seem That Season Of Beginning, Spring.

Here Is A Hall Without Exit, A Tunnel Without End.

One Day, I Started Writing, Not Knowing That I Had Chained Myself For Life To A Noble But Merciless Master. When God Hands You A Gift, He Also Hands You A Whip; And The Whip Is Intended Solely For Self-flagellation... I'm Here Alone In My Dark Madness, All By Myself With My Deck Of Cards - And, Of Course, The Whip God Gave Me.