I brought a knife to the gunfight. I am the knife. I am all blade.

It’s just so strange.You used to love me, and now you’re a strangerwho happens to know allof my secrets.

All this timeI drank you like the cure when maybeyou were the poison.

My battered heart will always be where the ocean meets the sand, I will break over and overEvery day. That is the best andworst part of me.

But my heart is an old house(the kind my mothergrew up in)hell to heat and cooland faulty in the wiringand though it’s nice to look atI have no businessinviting lovers in.

Be merciful until you can't be.Until you feel your heart begin to harden into a bullet.Then use that bullet.

I will love you when you are a still day.I will love you when you are a hurricane.

The good news is you survived. The bad news is you're hurt and no one can heal you but yourself.

We are more than the worst thing that's ever happened to us. All of us need to stop apologizing, for having been to hell and come back breathing.

I don't know whyI've got so much hopepinned to someone who will never call me home.

YOU NEVER NEED TO APOLOGIZEFOR HOW YOU CHOSE TO SURVIVE

...for Christians typical dating can often be a swerver - an approach to relationships that wants to go in a different direction than the one God has for us.

There is not a single ill-doer who could not be turned to some good.

We can never give up the belief that good guys always win. And that we are the good guys.

I've always been fascinated with the juxtaposition of technology in music, not only in recording, but in the keyboard. It's amazing the way you can apply technology to an art form.

We think-although of course, now, we very seldom Clearly think- That the other side of War is Peace.

Almost all the fathers of socialism were members of the upper middle class or of the professions.

Any manual labor I've done was purely by mistake.

Fools take criticism and dish it back. The wise take it and turn it to their advantage.

Violence is just, where kindness is vain.

Questions don't have to make sense, Vincent," said Miss Susan. "But answers do.