I know what my job is: I write the songs, I sing them, I play them on the piano

When I came in from Paris recently, for some reason the guy from customs wanted to know what kind of music I wrote. I was like, "I really want to please you so you don't keep me here, but I have no answer to that."

I don't want to make this sound negative at all, but in the best way possible I freaking give up. I give up. You can't try and make your life perfect. I'm just trying to have a good time, and I'm just trying to appreciate the things that I have around me. I give up on the 'dream' dream. I think that it's all a dream. I think it's all wonderful and terrible. And I give up in the nicest way.

Just tolerate my little fist tugging on your forest chest

I got a lot of problems, but I'm really good at intuiting what I need to do to be happy with whatever I create. I know when to stop myself, I know when to start, I know when to leave something alone. I guess I just kind of indulge that completely, and so I just take my time.

It pisses me off to think we're conditioned to push away bad feelings and think anything that's uncomfortable is to be avoided. When things are really bad nowadays, I recognize the value in it because it's me filling my quota- it's going to make my joy more intense later.

Love is a hell you cannot bear.