Dude, the place is filling up," I say. "It feels like we're living in the bottom half of an hourglass." Like somehow we're running out of time.

I always really curious to see how people interpret things. I know my version, and I'm kind of bored with my version so I want to see their version.

Don't do this. I love you. Don't shut me out.

How folks lay claim to a loved one is they give you a name of their own. They figure to label you as their property.

I am an invisible monster, and I am incapable of loving anybody. You don't know which is worse.

Leonardo's Mona Lisa is just a thousand thousand smears of paint. Michelangelo's David is just a million hits with a hammer. We're all of us a million bits put together the right way.

How everything you ever love will reject you or die. Everything you ever create will be thrown away. Everything you're proud of will end up as trash.