Slipping heavily down from the earth

A month is nothing; a month goes by and I don't even notice its passing.

Aye, a salvage operation, with oil slicks and Russian cutters and crusty sailors who constantly squint one eye... There be treasure in detritus.

I'm not an expert in anything, except in being Radigan.

Don't give them what they want; give them what there is.

"Vampirism isn't a fable. There is nothing supernatural about eating people."

I've been alone in this room too long. And what's with these damn crows? They're constantly crapping all over my bust of Pallas and throwing their shadows in impossible directions! And who the hell is Nevelle Moore?

O Queen of the Canadian Wastes, where blows your white heart now?

I don't care about pointless things. All things are pointless.

Nothing is divine; nothing is profane.

I don't really mean any of the things that I say, including the thing that I'm saying right now.

It is a good feeling, the sun coming up after a productive night.

"Your friend looks European; I know what Europeans look like."

"You want to learn about me not for what I am, but for what I might be."

I've loved. I've seduced. So, do it again?

Sad. Pervasive. Typical.

In the bourgeois vs. bohemian equation, spouses vs. lovers, accumulation vs. dissipation, security vs. freedom, I am on the far end of the latters.

If humanity has a savior, it was Kurt Cobain, because he delivered us from shitty '80s butt rock.

Skill in spelling was obviated two decades ago by SpellCheck. And complete sentences? Totally overrated.