Or maybe a person is just made up of a lot of peopleMaybe we’re accumulating these new selves all the time. Hauling them in as we make choices, good and bad, as we screw up, step up, lose our minds, find our minds, fall apart, fall in love, as we grieve, grow, retreat from the world, dive into the world, as we make things, as we break things.

That's exactly it—I am crazy sad, and somewhere deep inside, all I want is to fly.

Someone might as well roll up the whole sky, pack it away for good.

The sky is everywhere, it begins at your feet.

When people fall in love, they burst into flames.

No hot guys should be allowed to have an English accent and drive a motorcycle. Not to mention wear the leather jacket or sport the cool shades. Hot guys should be forced into footie pajamas.

We wish with our hands, that's what we do as artists.