As an artist you organize your life so that you get a chance to paint, a window of time, but that's no guarantee you'll create anything worth all your effort. You're always haunt by the idea you're wasting your life.

You can’t fool people into loving you.

The amazing miracle of death, when one second you're walking and talking, and the next second you're an object.

Any 'artist' makes a living by expressing what others can't - because they're unaware of their feelings, they're too afraid to express those feelings, or they lack the skills to communicate and be understood.

As the stupidest person in the room, I always had the most to gain.

If it is the case that love does survive death, then you may consider this to be a happy ending. Boy meets girl. Boy gets girl. Happily ever after or not.

As we grow older I always think, why didn't I do more when I was young, why didn't I risk more?