In the next election, I'm voting for your mom to be the next God.

I know from experience that beneath every peripheral girl is a central truth. She’s hiding hers away, but at the same time she wants me to see it.

That strange, twisted, torn love. That conflict between what your heart knows is right and what your mind is told is right.

That's the question, isn't it?" you said one night. "Does death bring freedom, or is it the end of freedom?

This is what you do now to give your day topography--scan the boxes, read the news, see the chain of your friends reporting about themselves, take the 140-character expository bursts and sift through for the information you need. It's a highly deceptive world, one that constantly asks you to comment but doesn't really care what you have to say. The illusion of participation can sometimes lead to participation. But more often than not, it only leads to more illusion, dressed in the guise of reality.

Our moments are music, and sometimes – just sometimes – we can catch them and put them into some lasting form. If we didn’t have music, I don’t think we could ever be truly happy, and if we didn’t have special moments, we would never find music.

This is what my voice sounds like I don't need to be talking to someone else To hear it