For a second, I feel a sense of overwhelming grief: for how things change, for the fact that we can never go back. I'm not certain of anything anymore. I don't know what will happen--

Live free or die.

Perfection is a promise, and a reassurance that we are not wrong.

He is no longer mine to lose, but the grief is there, a gnawing sense of disbelief.

We wanted the freedom to love. We wanted the freedom to choose. Now we have to fight for it.

And you can't love, not fully, unless you are loved in return.

But maybe happiness isn't in the choosing. Maybe it's in the fiction, in the pretending: that wherever we have ended up is where we intended to be all along.

I don't understand how everything changes, how the layers of your life get buried. Impossible. At some point, at some time, we must all explode.

This is the past: It drifts, it gathers. If you are not careful, it will bury you.

That is the rule of the Wilds: You must be bigger and stronger and tougher. You must hurt or be hurt.

We are all punished for the lives we have chosen, in one way or another.

Intuition is truth.

People are lucky and unlucky ... according to the ratio between what they get and what they have been led to expect.

People who work to bring about perfection see work as an extension of themselves. The point is to do a good job. That will empower you. To do a poor job will make you weaker.

So with the freestyles, I just do it for fun. If I hear something that I like, I'm rapping on it.

The eyes, like sentinels, hold the highest place in the body. [Lat., Oculi, tanquam, speculatores, altissimum locum obtinent.]

The offspring of riches: Pride, vanity, ostentation, arrogance, tyranny

Fundamentally, legislation that is historic, that is comprehensive, that has a large number of senators supporting it is more durable.

The second side of Abbey Road is my favorite.

I was an Elvis freak. That's all I listened to growing up.

I'm drinking here break motor oil and Bombay gin, I'll sleep when I'm dead.