There's a song", I say. "There's always a song", he says.

The past stands in the path of the future, knowing it will be crushed.

Gods are what people worship. Men are what die.

The summer kings are gods, and we are finally, in the end, just men.

So I take my lover, my king, and I put him in a pedestal and I cut him down. A man, like the ones who ruined the world.

Amid all that blood of the dying sun, the verde was still alive.

Hands and lips and teeth, and you'd forgotten-no, you'd never known-this way of knowing someone, this dissolution of self, this autophagy.

The only person we have the right or the power to forgive is ourselves. For everything else, there is the Art of Acceptance.

Your friends and enemies are defined the moment you come to this world.

Most people aren't even close to tapping into their true potential

Small, therefore, can we think the progress we have made, as long as our admiration for those who have done noble things is barren, and does not of itself incite us to imitate them.

If you are doing mindfulness meditation, you are doing it with your ability to attend to the moment.

Self-expression is a hard and selfish thing. It eats everything, even the self. At the end you find you haven't even got a self to express.

In a country where women regard themselves as equal, they are not prepared to see men running the show themselves.

We are never ripe till we have been made so by suffering.

Brick walls let us prove how badly we want our dream and they stop those who don't want it enough. Brick walls let us show our dedication.

Obviously I can't rely on my group, but I don't want to rely on a laptop just to play back some backing tracks, that's not the way I do things really.