“I want to write a song about one man's level of commitment called, "I'd walk to the edge of the world, just to dump your body.”

“But I so want to walk that razor's edge,Take feeling to a whole new level.”

“I want to write a song about retaliation called, "Oh Yeah, and I Faked Every Orgasm...While You Were Out of Town.”

“But this is what I know about people getting ready to walk of the edge of their own lives: they want someone to know how they got there. Maybe they want to know that when they dissolve into earth and water, that last fragment will be saved, held in some corner of someone's mind; or maybe all they want is a chance to dump it pulsing and bloody into someone else's hands, so it won't weigh them down on the journey. They want to leave their stories behind. No one in all the world knows that better than I do.”

“If my penis were big enough to be mistaken for a leg, I am not sure I'd want the world to know. However, I would walk up and down the stairs a lot. What you'd call masturbation, I'd call exercise.”

“I'd write ya spicy songs to slither out of your throat like barracudas.”