Where are people going? I wonder what they hope will happen and what they are afraid of? For me it's the same thing and has to do with being loved.

Sometimes, language is the sound of longing

In the end I didn't know who I was crying for, but it was something my body wanted to do, as though trying to digest grief.

Music is only a mystery to people who want it explained. Music and love are the same.

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.

I think people would be happier if they admitted things more often. In a sense we are all prisoners of some memory, or fear, or disappointment - we are all defined by something we can’t change.

I want to do things for people they will never forget. Maybe that’s the best thing I can do in life.