I'm A Fan Myself, So

Why Am I In Hell? It Hurts. It Hurts All The Time. Why Am I In Hell? I Just Want To Go Home And Lie On The Bed The Way I Used To. Please Take Me Home.

Truth Speaks Best In The Language Of Poetry And Symbolism, I Think.

Reality And Unreality Have No Clear Distinction In Our Present Circumstances.

We've Always Known We'd Eventually Be Called Upon To Open Our Shirts And Save The Day, And The Superhero Was A Crude, Hopeful Attempt To Talk About How We All Might Feel On That Day Of Great Power, And Great Responsibility.

Talking To Oneself, I Have Often Thought, Is The Best Way To Be Sure Of Intelligent And Witty Conversation.