I think that everything happens for a reason, everything happens when it's going to happen.

When the past makes you laugh and you can savor the magic that lets you survive your own war, you'll find that that fire is passion and there's a door up ahead - not a wall.

These are really terribly rough times, and we really should try to be as nice to each other as possible.

To wish for the crazy times one last time and freeze it in the memory of a camera is the least a great artist can do.

The sickness of the mother runs on through the girl, leaving her small and helpless. Liquor flies through her brain with the force of a gun, leaving her running in circles.

When you pass through the fire, you pass through humble.

I'd harbored hopes that the intelligence that once inhabited novels or films would ingest rock. I was, perhaps, wrong.