Let me tell you a few things about regret. There is no end to it. Do you regret the beginning which ended so badly, or just the ending itself?

They say drugs are not the answer, but really, what is the question?

It's all I ever really wanted, that revelation. The possibility of fixed stars.

As an artist, you can never get what you want. What you do never approaches what you want it to be.

Find someone who will tremble for your touch, someone whose fingers are a poem.

Who was I, really? I was the sole occupant of my mother's totalitarian state, my own personal history rewritten to fit the story she was telling that day. There were so many missing pieces. I was starting to find some of them, working my way upriver, collecting a secret cache of broken memories in a shoebox.

The story of her life. God gave you everything just to take it away. Just so you knew exactly what you were missing.