If you travel too often, you actually come face-to-face with what you're trying to escape. I feel like when I travel alone, sometimes it's like being locked in a hotel room with my own worst enemy.

I think we keep these moments of rejection and acceptance very close. I think we carry them always, like cracked shells from which a part of us once hatched.

Actually, years mean nothing. It's what's inside them.

Perhaps we were each allotted only a certain amount of love - enough for only an initial meeting - a serendipitous clumsiness. When it leaves to find others, the difficulty begins because we are faced with our humanness, our past, our very being.

Dreamers conquered the world long ago.

I wonder if things can happen too early or too late or if everything happens at exactly the right time. If so, how sad and beautiful.

Music helps us understand where we have come from but, more importantly, what has happened to us.