There's No Present. There's Only

We Talk Too Much, Love Too Seldom, And Hate Too Often.

The Human Species Could Have Been Great But Instead We Became Satisfied With Lights On Our Tennis Shoes.

The Other Night I Ate At A Real Nice Family Restaurant. Every Table Had An Argument Going.

Singing Is Basically A Form Of Pleasant, Controlled Screaming.

Think Of How Strange We'd Look If All The Cuts, Burns, Scrapes, Bruises, Scratches, Bumps, Gashes, And Scabs We Ever Had Suddenly Reappeared On Our Bodies At The Same Time.