We Quotes

We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam.

We all know the difference between the pronouns he or she and thou, the plainest spoken amongst us; we all feel the influence of a something beyond common civility in our personal intercourse with each other—a something more early implanted. We cannot give any body the disagreeable hints that we may have been very full of the hour before. We feel things differently.

We’re betrayed by everything we do. Our art. Our children. But we were here. We are still here.

We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane or insane. Saints or sex addicts. Heros or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are. Letting our past decide our future. Or we can decide for ourselves. And maybe it's our job to invent something better.

We were here. We are here. We will always be here.

We are what we think.
All that we are arises with our thoughts.
With our thoughts we make the world.

We're living in a teetering tower of babble. A shaky reality of words.

"Remember this," Tyler said. "The people you're trying to step on, we're everyone you depend on. We're the people who do your laundry and cook your food and serve your dinner. We make your bed. We guard you while you're asleep. We drive the ambulances. We direct your call. We are cooks and taxi drivers and we know everything about you. We process your insurance claims and credit card charges. We control every part of your life. "We are the middle children of history, raised by television to believe that someday we'll be millionaires and movie stars and rock stars, but we won't. And we're just learning this fact," Tyler said. "So don't fuck with us."

We’re not old enough to buy beer, what are we supposed to teach the world?

The only people who know me hate me. We all hate each other. We all fear each other. The whole world is my enemy.

Mr. Whittier says: “Maybe we’re living the exact way we’re meant to live.” Maybe our factory planet is processing our souls. . . just fine.

God’s thou wert, unto God return. Dust to dust. Living’s for those of us who failed. Greedy God, gathering in the good ones, leaving the world to the rest of us, to rot.