Jim Morrison

I am troubled, immeasurablyby your eyes. I am struck by the featherof your soft reply.The sound of glassspeaks quick, disdainand concealswhat your eyes fightto explain.

Drugs are a bet with your mind.

The most loving parents and relatives commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we really are: a subtle kind of murder.

I'll never wake up in a good mood again.I'm tired of these stinky boots.

When you make your peace with authority, you become authority.