Give me a man with a little fight in him, a man who calls me on my bullshit. (But who also kind of likes my bullshit.)

There’s something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold.

My brain goes very easily into the darkness. It always has. There are people who like to see what's under the rock and people who don't, and for some reason I've always been one of those to say, 'Hey, let's flip over that rock.'

People love talking, and I have never been a huge talker. I carry on an inner monologue, but the words often don't reach my lips.

A town so suffocating and small, you tripped over people you hated every day. People who knew things about you. It's the kind of place that leaves a mark.

Don't be discouraged - every relationship you have is a failure, until you find the right one.

There's no app for a bourbon buzz on a warm day in a cool, dark bar. The world will always want a drink.