Got to lose control before you take control.

My sunglasses are like my guitar.

We go through life. We shed our skins. We become ourselves.

To be an artist — actually, to be a human being in these times — it’s all difficult. … What matters is to know what you want and pursue it.

Never let go of that fiery sadness called desire.

Where does it all lead? What will become of us? These were our young questions, and young answers were revealed. It leads to each other. We become ourselves.

Life isn't some vertical or horizontal line -- you have your own interior world, and it's not neat.

I imagined myself as Frida to Diego, both muse and maker. I dreamed of meeting an artist to love and support and work with side by side.

Swift is the arrow, dark is the thorn, the slate is clean, the future awaits, awake.

Make your interactions with people transformational, not just transactional.

To me, punk rock is the freedom to create, freedom to be successful, freedom to not be successful, freedom to be who you are. It's freedom.

Is that you giggling away to glory?Or is that just the flowers mingling with the bees and telling their story?

Life is like a guitar and the combination of chords are called moments. Playing them is the called living the moments.

Every exceptional writer holds a Master of Arts in Daydreaming.

Justice is the sanction of established injustice.

I believe our future depends powerfully on how well we understand this cosmos in which we float, like a mote of dust in the morning sky.

I'll stop doing everything that I do when I don't want to do it anymore.

The heart is a muscle, and you strengthen muscles by using them. The more I lead with my heart, the stronger it gets.

Ignorance is not not knowin' - Ignorance is knowin' what ain't so.

Well, everything I am, everything I'll ever be, I owe to my family, to God's grace and to the people of Indiana, and Columbus will always be home.

My favorite random email I got was from some guy who wrote: "Mr. Max, with the hope of a six year old on the night before Christmas asking about Santa, I ask the same question: Do you really exist?