Soon the whole box is consumed with the letters of her name, and it's an artwork unto itself. I stare at it for a long while, until finally I see I've got all the right answers after all."

"After I died, people dissected me. They put words in my mouth: This is how he felt when he wrote this, this is what he thought of me, this is why he did it. Fuck them. But also bless them. They made me famous. Immortal. Suddenly, my songs, which once were strange and ill-conceived, now were fat with meaning. When you die, you become a Virgin Mary, an untouchable exalted thing with a golden breast and a mink brow. You lose yourself, and they win you. You have no voice, and so a million people breathe and talk for you. Your art is their art. Your casket is their temple, your last words are their next ten commandments. "

"What I'd ask of you, out of respect, not for me--I'm deaf and blind to it now--but for the living I left, is to leave it alone. Don't investigate my last few days, because these could be your last few days. Play your own part. "

"And don't tell me what I did. I didn't play the piano or fuck Lindsay Lohan or fill my goody bag to the brim at the Venice Film Festival. In fact, I'm not really sure I did too much that you personally should remember, beyond make a beautiful little girl, the one thing every guy wants to be able to say he did. So that's it, my final unedited shot: Matilda. She is what lives on. The rest is just bullshit. "

So hey, buddy, why so serious?

Chin up.

It's all part of the plan (c)