Every second of your definitionally temporary consciousness, you are choosing how you spend something that will not last forever.
Love is just a shout in the void.
If I ever end up being the kind of person who has one kid and seven bedrooms. Do me a favor and shoot me.
The labyrinth blows, but I choose it.
Life has become the future.
Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.
To whom it may concern: It is springtime. It is late afternoon.
Every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage.
They were like the man with the dungeon stone and gloom, rising from the underground, the sordid hipsters of America, a new beat generation that I was slowly joining.
I sued American Apparel because they calculatingly took my name, my likeness and image and used them publicly to promote their business.
Speak softly, but carry a big can of paint.
Civilization begins with distillation.
Life is nothing if you’re not obsessed.
Sometimes skulls are thick. Sometimes hearts are vacant. Sometimes words don’t work.
The visionary is the only realist.
When I see hipsters wearing Mao hats or Lenin T-shirts, I’m grateful. It’s like truth-in-labeling. For now I know you are: Woefully ignorant, morally stunted, purposively asinine, or all three.
I don’t know the difference between a hippie and a hipster but, it’s fun to watch either one of them get beat up.
The thing about hipsters is that they take very seriously trying to make themselves look like they don’t take themselves seriously.
Typography is what language looks like.
Being a philosopher, I have a problem for every solution.