I knew people want most what they pretend to hate, that it takes courage to say what you really want.

When you write you have to reside in the unknown for as long as possible.

Everything was new, now I’m a junkie, I seem to need more severe doses of experience to feel anything.

I knew people want most what they pretend to hate, that it takes courage to say what you really want.

I always think to myself, being human, having crushes now, what is it about that person that I really want? What do they represent? More freedom? Someone to care for me more? It's never really about the person.

I knew you could find a certain relief in begging God, it had helped me, but on the other hand, God never answered directly and that was always depressing.

Maybe all spirits flew to Paris, not only French ones. Could you haunt a place you'd never been?