I think that when you don't see the boundaries, you cross them without even knowing they exist in the first place.

I don't think you learn how to act. You learn how to use your emotions and feelings.

I was raised with the idea of beauty in a different way. To me, it is something that really comes out of you and surrounds you.

I think in friendship, you want to be there for your friend, and sometimes you just don't know what to do or the relationship you have with them is not clear enough for you to know what to do.

You cannot escape what you have to deal with inside yourself. It will never bring good things. It will only bring madness.

I think that emotion and good stories can cross the times.

Did a man really walk on the moon? I saw plenty of documentaries on it, and I really wondered.

I am not very good at expressing myself in a simple way so it can create mis-understandings and I hate that.

If I wake up during a dream I can usually go back to sleep and finish the story.

I think you're where you have to be and I'm not a person who wants to control things too much because I love surprises.

It's pretty refreshing to be in a situation where the spotlight is on someone else.

Everyone, red state, blue state, everyone supports space exploration.

But when I first fell in love with the piano, I knew it was me. I was dying to play.

You know, stand-up comedy is where I pretty much started out.

If you are working from your inbox, you are working on other people’s priorities.

I never find words right away. Poems for me always begin with images and rhythms, shapes, feelings, forms, dances in the back of my mind.

I think the world tries to put people in a box, like this is the only appropriate way to be beautiful.

I feel like I'm on cloud nine right now.

And all men are ready to pass judgement on the priest as if he was not a being clothed with flesh, or one who inherited a human nature.

I admire Mark Zuckerberg... for not selling out, for wanting to make a company. I admire that a lot.

Russians understand the rhythm of despair.