Her brain is like a filing cabinet – everything neatly stored in categories. My brain is more like soup – everything all blended and mushed together.

Everyone thought that things were getting back to normal. They had no idea that normal didn’t exist for me any more. Normal had been smashed on the rocks beneath the bridge.

This is the real way a friendship ends. Not with some huge screaming row, but with a gradual withdrawal. You’d think it would be less painful this way.

To be perfectly honest, it scared me a little. You get so used to seeing the same thing in the mirror every day you stop thinking about what you look like.

I called no one, and no one called me. I was suffocating with loneliness. The pain was almost physical. I felt like tearing myself apart. I wanted to escape from my own skin.

It's too late.I chose life too late.

Kind of just existed from day to day, on weird plateau of feeling nothingness.

I wanted to grab his stupid ears and smash his stupid head against the door until his stupid brains leaked out. Instead, I did nothing.

It’s amazing, the lies you can tell yourself. Even more amazing, the lies you can believe when you’re desperate enough.

Has this version of me been lurking there all along, somewhere deep below the surface, biding its time, waiting for its chance to make an appearance?

The butterflies in my stomach turn into vampire bats as we pull up to the school.

Achieving life is not the equivalent of avoiding death.

What we know that we know forms our intellect

Only so much of life do I know as I have lived.

I'd love to win trophies, be in movies, have a body of work I'm proud of and find a way to enjoy it along the way. Success is probably a more of a complicated thing than that.

We younger Negro artists who create now intend to express our individual dark-skinned selves without fear or shame. If white people are pleased we are glad. If they aren?t it doesn?t matter.

Fancy your having no sunshine in London yesterday! Here it was glorious, like full summer, and I sat up with the window wide open, listening to the discourse of two amorous thrushes.

I really enjoy singing, it's entirely different to acting because I'm just being myself.

I can always remember standing up to the baddest girls in my elementary school. Wherever I went, there was always a mean girl, and that girl would always hate me because I wouldn’t bow down.

At the end of the day the question comes, what are you doing for the world? You have to try to do something that's going to add something positive.

Hell is not punishment, it's training.