You love the person for who they are, flaws and all. You can't help who you love, either. It comes from a different side of your brain than the logic part that tells you that this person is horrible for you - "You should walk away!" While you're walking away, the other part of your brain is trying to gain control of your bodily functions. "Turn around! She's the one!"

That's the trouble with being me. At this point, nobody gives a damn what my problem is. I could literally have a tumor on the side of my head and they'd be like, 'Yeah, big deal. I'd eat a tumor every morning for the kinda money you're pulling down.'

Usually you regret the things you say no to.

Everything you gain in life will rot and fall apart, and all that will be left of you is what was in your heart.

I have no limits! I cannot be contained because I'm the container.

Charles Dickens was an incredibly cinematic writer. He wrote this one hundred years before there were movies. He writes very thematically. It is amazing.

It's hard for anybody who's been with me not to feel starved for affection when I'm making love to my ideas. Maybe it's not meant for me to settle down and be married.