“If my face was covered, I would be useless.”

People hate people who are good at things. People hate people who are cute.

You know it’s hard for me to, like, act the way I’ve been acting. And, like, being, like, nice to everyone. And I think I deserve to be acknowledged for that.

A diamond was laying in the street covered with dirt. Many fools passed by. Someone who knew diamonds picked it up.

There is an intuitive knowing within us that we are eternal but this gets covered over with the noise we create while identifying with the impermanent.

Cover that bosom that I must not see: souls are wounded by such things.

Unconverted men walk over the pit of hell on a rotten covering.

You can’t judge a book by its cover, can you?

A revolution in consciousness is an empty high without a revolution in the distribution of power. We are not interested in the greening of Amerika except for the grass that will cover its grave.

Our whole childhood remains to be reimagined. In reimagining it, we have the possibility of recovering it in the very life of our reveries as a solitary child.

I jump out of planes, I could be covered in cockroaches, I do all sorts of things, but I just don’t like the feel of butterflies’ bodies.