There is no comfort in heaven, because I cannot envision it.
If we don’t use the earth, who will? Is simply a scorched earth the best we can do?
Why wait for the vultures; when we can be our own just deserts?
Damn this scrupulosity. But if God won’t judge me, who will? I can’t remember the last time someone found me lacking for all the things I want to found lacking for.
He loved you more than he loved his nature of holiness (though he hates your music, your irony, your stupid haircut).
I’m through running. Not because I’m brave but because I am worn out. Not because I’ve won; just that I’m the one. There was no where to go but here.
Even after all our promises, we rise not in flames, but groggily to another grande caramel macchiato.