Hell Is The Suffering Of

If I Were A Piano Player, I'd Play It In The Goddam Closet.

He Was One Of Those Guys That Think They're Being A Pansy If They Don't Break Around Forty Of Your Fingers When They Shake Hands With You. God I Hate That Stuff.

She Was Not One For Emptying Her Face Of Expression.

I Don't Even Know What I Was Running For—i Guess I Just Felt Like It.

I'm Sick Of Not Having The Courage To Be An Absolute Nobody. I'm Sick Of Myself And Everybody Else That Wants To Make Some Kind Of A Splash.