You invite things to happen. You open the door. You inhale. And if you inhale the chaos, you give the chaos, the chaos gives back.

We are the bright new stars born of a screaming black hole, the nascent suns burst from the darkness, from the grasping void of space that folds and swallows--a darkness that would devour anyone not as strong as we. We are oddities, sideshows, talk show subjects. We capture everyone's imagination.

We have no choice. We need the communion of souls and only here are they awake.

You know how you finish a bag of chips and you hate yourself? You know you’ve done nothing good for yourself. That’s the same feeling, and you know it is, after some digital binge. You feel wasted and hollow and diminished.

I still get my news from the newspaper in the morning. I just have an affection for paper, and that's no secret, I guess.

All we really want is for no one to have a boring life, to be impressive, so we can be impressed. ~ on the friends we choose.

My voice and movements are restricted by the things I own.