College is like a woman: you work so hard to get in, and nine months later you wish you'd never come. We used to say if a frog had side pockets, he'd carry a handgun.
Wait. You've got principles? We'll have to update your file.
Nothing is ever really lost. The memories of good friends and good times are always there, never more than a thought away. In a sense, they never really stopped happening. Every moment you ever treasured, every friend you ever valued is still there, separated from us only by time; the past is still happening and always will be. It's only we who have moved on.
Nothing is hidden, nothing is ever lost, nothing is ever forgotten. That's always been part of my problem.
Sometimes humour is all we have to say the things that can't be said.
You know, sometimes I swear the whole universe runs on irony.
Though I often run out of courage and good sense, stubbornness keeps me going.
Well. There is a psychiatric occurrence we see in men-not often women-where they put all their hopes and dreams onto one person, so intensely that at some point it trips a wire in the brain circuitry, and that causes them to go, in a minute, 180 degrees the other way.
Boxing is a business and if it makes sense, other than my brother (Anthony), damn right I'll fight him.
I feel vulnerable when my ego is threatened - if I get jealous of another band's good time slot at a big festival, if I'm about to get clobbered in a political debate, if I'm trying to impress someone I have a crush on. It's the opposite of openness, letting go, allowing deep feelings to express themselves. For me, that comes from playing music and from kissing.
I have been cautioned to talk but be careful not to say anything. I do not consider this a difficult task.