There were a bunch of moments that kept cascading. Like, when we got an opportunity to play "Letterman", it gave us an opportunity to step up. It feels good to shed that skin and rise out of it.

The easiest thing to feel is sadness.

Our lives feel like these epochs, but really we are dust in the wind.

But in any situation with long love, I don’t think it ever goes away fully. You just sort of learn where to keep it.

I'm up in the woods, I'm down on my mind. I'm building a still, to slow down the time.

I don't know why you'd spend any of your time trying to remake something that you don't actually like.

There's that whole thing that happens in relationships - you can love someone but, as soon as they stop loving you so unconditionally that they stop being themselves, it can be so dangerous.

At once i knew i was not magnificent.

Even the indie rock world - which is supposed to be about truth and independence from corporate mindfulness or something - is totally subject to the paraphernalia of celebrity.

I began realizing that it wasn't important for me to concern myself with the perception of truth.

I'm not trying to say something super complicated. I allow myself to say certain things that mean a lot to me.

No man kills himself unless there is something wrong with his life.

Never practice magic when you're drunk.

How you brew your life is how it’s gonna taste on your tongue. You have the choice to make it bitter or sweeter. It all depend on the actions that you take day in day out.

I'm like a really goofy home ec teacher.

Blood moon risin' in a sky of black dust, tell me baby, who do you trust?

All such men are, or ought to be, agreed, that simple governments are despotisms; and of all despotisms, a democracy, though the least durable, is the most violent.

Once you become a mother, you always have a guilt trip. You always try to do the best, but you feel you can always be better.

Commend a fool for his wit, or a rogue for his honesty and he will receive you into his favour.

Doubt not but angling will prove to be so pleasant that it will prove to be, like virtue, a reward to itself.

Forgiveness lives alone and far off down the road, but bitterness and art are close, gossipy neighbors, sharing the same clothesline, hanging out their things, getting their laundry confused.