Everything is a self-portrait. Everything is a diary.

Our generation has had no Great Depression, no Great War. Our war is spiritual. Our depression is our lives.

The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.

We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.

Worker bees can leave. Even drones can fly away. The Queen is their slave.

Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified?

You know, the condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip it on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night, then you throw it away.

If you love something set it free, but don't be surprised if it comes back with herpes.

Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known.

The trick to forgetting the big picture is to look at everything close-up.

It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.

The thought had crossed my mind, that in order to save this world from Hell, I might have to become the Devil.

I give 100% to my job because I love what I do. I get 101% in return. What great things love, attitude, passion, and hard work can accomplish!

He that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that is broken down and without walls.

I have lived long enough to know that the evening glow of love has its own riches and splendour.

And when he catches me looking at him, he gives me this incredibly sweet, calm smile, and I think that we've got our lives ahead of us, our whole lives.

Lonely dissent doesn't feel like going to school dressed in black. It feels like going to school wearing a clown suit.

That kind of discipline whose pungent severity is in the manifestations of paternal love, compassion, and tenderness is the most sure of its object.

I was very fascinated with meteorology at a young age. I lived on the Gulf Coast and hurricanes blew through there. That is the class I failed in college: meteorology.

I have photographs taken of me at the time I was addicted, and thought I looked good. I see them today and realize my eyes were dead.

I think that it’s fearless to fall for your best friend, even though he’s in love with someone else.