I was real religious when I was young. I wanted to be a missionary.

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.

I began to consider the fact that maybe history is actually the great destroyer of free will.

Cut lose your ties with expectation. Your dreams are charlatans, your memories, stalemating quarks. Listen only to the pull of your atoms and follow the discordant hum of your personal entropy.

Sometimes there's not a better way. Sometimes there's only the hard way.

The Big Bang banged, and for some reason we’re here. And that’s astonishing. And that we can understand that, that’s the most astonishing.

In the space of three weeks, I met a fair bunch of the guys who were just starting those little programmers' co-ops, and everybody was talking about starting businesses.

Or maybe it's not a miracle. Maybe this is just life. When you open yourself up to it. When you put yourself in the path of it. When you say yes.

I love surprises and coincidences. I love them even more when I don't pass them off as luck, but rather recognize them as a sign that my life's course is right on track.

Love turns a heart to crystal...Much more valuable, but much more fragile.

Slavery takes hold of few, but many take hold of slavery.

The public is anold woman.Let her maunderand mumble.