I Don't Like Myself Very

Bring Me The Head Of Elton John . . . Which Is One Instance In Which Meat Would Not Be Murder, If It Were Served On A Plate.

I Can Smell Burning Flesh... And I Hope To God It's Human.

I Am The Son And The Heir Of A Shyness That Is Criminally Vulgar.

I See Myself Rather Like An Old Discarded Dishrag.

I'd Rather Produce Art Than Become Art.