In a sense, I'm the one who ruined me: I did it myself.

Things pass us by. Nobody can catch them. That's the way we live our lives.

Kids' hearts are malleable, but once they gel it's hard to get them back the way they were.

You might think you made a new world or a new self, but your old self is always gonna be there, just below the surface, and if something happens, it'll stick its head out and say 'Hi.' You don't seem to realize that. You were made somewhere else.

She was, if anything, on the plain side, at least not the type to attract men wherever she went. But there was something in her face that was meant for me alone. Everytime we met, I took a good look at her. And loved what I saw.

Symbolism and meaning are two separate things. I think she found the right words by bypassing procedures like meaning and logic. She captured words in a dream, like delicately catching hold of a butterfly’s wings as it flutters around. Artists are those who can evade the verbose.

If you listen to the radio for a whole hour there's maybe one decent song. The rest is mass-produced garbage