I live for me and those closest to me

You are not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world....

The things you own end up owning you....

You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you, he probably doesn't, in all likelihood he hates you, but we don't need him...

Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken...

How long could we maintain? I wondered. How long until one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? What will he think then? This same lonely desert was the last known home of the Manson family; will he make that grim connection when my attorney starts screaming about bats and huge manta rays coming down on the car? If so, well, we'll just have to cut his head off and bury him somewhere, 'cause it goes without sayin