Kissing Mother Superior, incompetent, hairball, poppy seeds, on the can.

I guess it's always romantic when two people fall in love.... Even if it turns out not to be real.

This is the music business. 'Five years is five hundred years' - your words.

Like all failed experiments, that one taught me something I didn’t expect: one key ingredient of so-called experience is the delusional faith that it is unique and special, that those included in it are privileged and those excluded from it are missing out.

Everyone we've lost, we'll find. Or they'll find us.

But I always need to identify with a character to write about him or her - and by "identify," I mean see the world through that person's eyes and have a strong sense of the inner logic of their acts and decisions, wacky or wrongheaded though they might be. In that sense, I think there's some of me in all of them.

I think, The world is actually huge. That's the part no one can really explain.