I hate everything. The world owes me.

Newsmen winding up the nation, a little bad news helps circulation, pass on the panic to the population.

After all, it’s what we’ve done that makes us what we are.

A wasted youth is better by far than a wise and productive old age.

Back down the bully to the back of the bus, cause it’s time for them to be scared of us.

Don’t dwell on what has passed away or what is yet to be.

Come down off the cross, we could use the wood.

Close your legs, open your mind.

A pretty face, don’t make a pretty heart.