Then it hit me and I just blurted, 'I like people too much or not at all. I've got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.

Perhaps some day I'll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.

I wonder why I don't go to bed and go to sleep. But then it would be tomorrow, so I decide that no matter how tired, no matter how incoherent I am, I can skip on hour more of sleep and live.

The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.

How we need another soul to cling to.

So much working, reading, thinking, living to do! A lifetime is not long enough.

Writing, then, was a substitute for myself: if you don't love me, love my writing & love me for my writing. It is also much more: a way of ordering and reordering the chaos of experience.

If they substituted the word 'Lust' for 'Love' in the popular songs it would come nearer the truth.

Is anyone anywhere happy?

Living with him is like being told a perpetual story: his mind is the biggest, most imaginative I have ever met. I could live in its growing countries forever.

a lot of timeswe are angry at other peoplefor not doing whatwe should have done for ourselves- responsibility

You taught me to love the dark, Aidan. If that 's wrong, then I'm already damned.

Chaos is rejecting all you have learned, chaos is being yourself.

You've never met a more flawed guy than me.

I half knew what to expect when I saw the cricket ground in the morning. It was when I started to talk to people working out there, I began to find what I was looking for.

A good artist lets his intuition lead him wherever it wants.

It's very humbling to imagine somebody else's really life and their pain ... It's my drug.

Waiting for inspiration is for amateurs; professionals get to work.

I have been playing the piano for my entire life - since I was three.

There was no use pretending, no magic left to hear, all the music gave me was a craving for lite beer.