Virtuous motives, trammeled by inertia and timidity, are no match for armed and resolute wickedness. A sincere love of peace is no excuse for muddling hundreds of millions of humble folk into total war. The cheers of the weak, well-meaning assemblies soon cease to count. Doom marches on.
Wayne Tell me, when the first show is over, will you still love me when I'm an incredibly humungoid giant star Cassandra Yeah. Wayne Will you still love me when I'm in my hanging-out-with-Ravi-Shankar phase Cassandra Yeah. Wayne Will you still love me when I'm in my carbohydrate, sequined-jumpsuit, young-girls-in-white-cotton-panties, waking-up-in-a-pool-of-your-own-vomit, bloated-purple-dead-on-a-toilet phase Cassandra Yeah. Wayne Okay, party. Bonus.
We all carry around so much pain in our hearts. Love and pain and beauty. They all seem to go together like one little tidy confusing package. It's a messy business, life. It's hard to figure--full of surprises. Some good. Some bad.
We all know one day we will die but don't know the exact date, we don't know that fucking exact date, say what you want to say to everyone who loves you or you love because we don't know the exact date.”
We are behaving like people without compassion and love for the most vulnerable section of society. The children of the universe are without a spokesperson, they are voiceless…We are all touched by the atrocities committed against children: sexual, physical abuse, child slave labor, educational neglect. We feel ashamed. Angry. Appalled. But there is no action…No action.
We are like sculptors, constantly carving out of others the image we long for, need, love or desire, often against reality, against their benefit, and always, in the end, a disappointment, because it does not fit them.