Writing does not resurrect. It buries.

Some tourists think Amsterdam is a city of sin, but in truth it is a city of freedom. And in freedom, most people find sin.

Amsterdam is like the rings of a tree: It gets older as you get closer to the center.

I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater.

...And in freedom, most people find sin.

So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.

A taste so profound and complex that it can't even be compared to other tastes, only to emotions. Cheesy waffles, I was thinking, tastes like love without the fear of love's dissolution.

My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.

The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.

All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm.

I would always love Alaska Young, my crooked neighbor, with all my crooked heart.

As time flies, its the kid who becomes his parents' shadow.

Often what feels like the end of the world is really a challenging pathway to a far better place.

Failure could bring the best opportunity to start the most wonderful life.

...there is no map of the soul because we make it up as we go...

I can honestly say that everything I've ever listened to has influenced me or motivated me in one way, form or fashion.

Saving the world is only a hobby. Most of the time I do nothing.

To endure oneself may be the hardest task in the universe.

Customs are generally unselfish. Habits are nearly always selfish.

The master who loved most of all, endured the most and proved his love by his endurance.

Girls we love for what they are; young men for what they promise to be.