The Body is the most indisputable materialization of class taste in that one's hairstyle, clothing, diet, and even gait function as signs within a larger system of social positions.

The Body is singular, the soul multiple.

A Body is a body with reflexes and anticipatory qualities, a body that is constantly in-becoming

The Body is a poop gun and eating is reloading.

A Cloud is a mobile canvass mounted in the elastic framework of space across which the sun draws his brush en route.

The Cloud is, when low, the paperweight of the wind.

The Cloud cries itself to death.

The Cloud is the ocean of the heavens.

Comfort is the god of this world, but comfort it will never obtain by making it an object.

Comfort is overrated — life begins at the end of your comfort zone.

Comfort is Comforts and syphilis are the greatest enemies of mankind.

Comfort is nothing to be proud of — you should never be comfortable, man. Being comfortable fouled up a lot of musicians.