Just because somebody's dead, you don't just stop liking them, for God's sake — especially if they were about a thousand times nicer than the people you know that're alive and all.
— Don't you hate that?
— Hate what?
— Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
— I don't know. That's a good question.
— That's when you know you've found somebody really special: you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence.
Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.
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We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.