“Its not the size of the rise that satisfies, it’s the throb of the knob that does the job.”

“Does the beef salute the butcher as it throbs to it's knees?”

“Drum sound rises on the air, its throb, my heart. A voice inside the beat says, "I know you're tired, but come. This is the way.”

“The interesting thing about grief, I think, is that it is its own size. It is not the size of you. It is its own size. And grief comes to you. You know what I mean? I’ve always liked that phrase “He was visited by grief,” because that’s really what it is. Grief is its own thing. It’s not like it’s in me and I’m going to deal with it. It’s a thing, and you have to be okay with its presence. If you try to ignore it, it will be like a wolf at your door.”

“The soul throbs like the sea for a larger life. No thought which I have ever had has satisfied my soul.”

“I’ve just begun to scratch the surface of my talent, and boy does my talent itch. It’s like a red mosquito bite the size of Mars.”