When I was young I would ask everybody what life was about. Now it's clear to me that the image of each existence shows its own answer to that question.

I feel really good when I haven't felt good for a long time and then suddenly I feel okay again. Nothing feels better than this.

I always thought death was cruel, a silent destroyer of breath, of hope, of life. Now I understand it is physical death, the perception of it, the fear of it, which often saves us; for death marks the end of our flesh causing us to question the future of what we are.

What is truth? Truth is what causes you to breathe again when lies have told you, you are already dead.

California always had been a dream to me. I guess growing up in the 70s with movies like Vanishing Point, The Getaway, and Badlands formed the need for me to leave Germany for California. I'd never even visited before I moved there. When I moved to Los Angeles in 1996 right away I felt at home. Everything was in place and the dream was alive.

What is it about a secret love that makes everything they do shine, everything they say sound like a sonnet and every expression they make perfect, when to everyone else you speak to they're quite ordinary. It's a cruel sort of thing.

Yes, I do feel the world revolves around me. After all, I am the main character of my own life.