Music is always the first thing I notice when I go someplace new.

Nothing's better for art than a little old-fashioned suffering.

I have no idea how to be an artist and a lover, so I chose the one most likely to make me happy when I'm eighty and gazing back on a long and productive life.

Writing catchy pop songs is a super-minor superpower, but it's mine.

Sad songs are not my strong suit. All the songs that have saved my life make you feel like driving with the top down or dancing in your room with your best friend.

Passion is never pathetic.

The threat of failure shouldn't kill the fun of dreaming.

The way she says kiss, it sounds different. Like she invented the word specifically for the song.

Electricity crackles from her lips to mine and I'm stunned it's not visible.

They are kissing—finally, extravagantly, like it's the first thirty seconds of a kissing competition and they can't imagine they'll ever get tired.

Time flies when you're fulfilling your ambitions in a completely unexpected way.

Each character created by Stephen King is a proffesor... a guy full of knowledge.

But I had no idea what I looked like. Children may feel epic and large to theyselves and yet be only scraps to view.

I want my relationship with my future boyfriend to be built on trust, not in alcohol, not in the appearance, and in jealous eyes

Dwell upon the brightest parts in every prospect... and strive to be pleased with the present circumstances.

A theme in a lot of my books - and in my own life - is making choices that you feel you should make, or what society wants you to make, as opposed to what is truly right for you.

Democracy is when the people keep a government in check.

Say oh wise man how you have come to such knowledge? Because I was never ashamed to confess my ignorance and ask others.

Twinkle, twinkle little bat How I wonder what you're at! Up above the world you fly, Like a tea-tray in the sky.

Anyone starting to garden... would be wise to look around carefully and see what grows well in other people's yards.

Man the sum of what have you. A problem in impure properties carried tediously to an unvarying nil: stalemate of dust and desire.