And when our sun explodes and we are all destroyed, we'll be rocks and chunks of I am not sure what, and maybe we'll rain down on somewhere else.

I want to make something, and I want people to know I made it.

If at first you don't succeed...run.

I'd rather die terrified than live forever.

When the end comes, I hope it’s as strange as that. I hope that the sky tears open and the world is washed with colors that we’ve never seen before.

Judge if you want, we are all going to die. I intend to deserve it.

Well, it's possible to be mentally ill and rational.