This is another awful truth of losing people you love: everyone needs something different. And the needs almost never match up.

Even when everything hurts, even when other cities are exploding and people we love are disappearing, there’s still space for sweet things.

I want to know if we are the same, in the moments when we’re stripped bare.

We have to give up so many things when the people we love die. So we hang on to other familiar things.

I can’t quite figure out the difference between loving someone and loving things about them.

Love is insanity, apparently.

Love is something you have or don’t have. Love is like a fever.

It sounds like love just sort of happens, whether you want it to or not, whether you’re married or not.

Sometimes words I think are small come out big.

On our own, we’d look totally normal. Together, we’re something else. Together, we’re special.

We don’t smile, but we something. We something. It hurts, the way a deep connection to someone who isn’t yours sometimes does.

The Bible has noble poetry in it... and some good morals and a wealth of obscenity, and upwards of a thousand lies.

Give up your thirst for books, so that you do not die a grouch.

For some people, home is family and their mom's house or their girl or whatever, and I have those experiences as well, but the biggest thing for me is Chicago.

After ten years of toiling away in Hollywood, I realized that there's no better place for new ideas than comics.

I definitely like the oddballs. There's a song called 'Little Thing,' which is the only song that I have recorded that has no words. And it's the one that I get past my critic inside me.

Such a caring for death, an awakening that keeps vigil over death, a conscience that looks death in the face, is another name for freedom.

My father had this mythological sense of the old New York, and he used to tell me stories about these old gangs, particularly the Forty Thieves in the Fourth Ward.

I think my soul is intact, but my methods of reaching people are completely different.

You can't please everybody, Microsoft. So stop trying.

I haven't had an orthodox career.