"Α, πόσα γράμματα, πόσα ποιήματα
που τα πήρε ο άνεμος του Νοεμβρίου. Κι αν έχασα τη ζωή μου
την έχασα για πράγματα ασήμαντα: μια λέξη ή ένα κλειδί, ένα
χτες ή ένα αύριο"
"And every scar sits like a marker
every line on the face is a small souvenir
of all the places be they good or be they bad
that we stopped into on the journey to here"
"Another evening of sublime self-destruction To the tune of a thousand cigarettes
Where every nail that's hammered into your spirit Well, it wasn't able to sink you just yet"