“Believe me, I ain't pretty enough to be called an Angel. -The Reaper”

“I don't write romance. Read it? Yes. Write it? No.”

“I live entire lifetimes in my head. Sometimes simultaneously.”

“PrettyThat's what I am, I guess.I mean, people have been tellingme that's what I am sinceI was two. Maybe younger. Prettyas a picture. (Who wantsto be a cliché?) Pretty asan angel. (Can you see them?)Pretty as a butterfly. (But isn'tthat really just a glam bug?)Cliché, invisible, or insectlike,I grew up knowing I waspretty and believing everything goodabout me had to do with howI looked. The mirror was my bestfriend. Until it started telling me I wasn't really pretty enough.”

“I Ain't Got No Quarrel With The VietCong...No VietCong Ever Called Me Nigger.”

“Los Angeles, give me some of you! Los Angeles come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town!”

“I admit that I ain't no angel, I admit that I ain't no saint-- I'm selfish and I'm cruel and I'm blind. If I exorcise my devils, well my angels may leave too. When they leave they're so hard to find...”