“The bed was the canvas, we were the art.”

When they question you about my disappearance, Do not tell them I am lost inside you.

What do you do when the passion burns out? Start another fire.

Her kiss is a sun-burn that never heals.

She comes in form of blistering light : her love is a screaming sun.

Caution never wrote a love story.

If it weren’t for misery some people would never be happy.

Her heart is too young to be walking with a cane.

She’s got the look of a woman with lightening up her sleeve.

A woman can change the atmosphere of a room just by walking through that door, if that isn’t magic, what is?

Treasure the souls who call your twisted dreams, beautiful.

I hope what I awakened in you, devours me.

You owe the world your uniqueness.

Make the lioness inside her purr and her kitty will roar.

Music and sex are soulmates.

She might look like a fragile flower, but her stem is made of steel.

The heart reveals what the mind disguises.

Glass can shatter, yet still be created into nothing short of art. And so can you.

I want art to make me think. In order to do that, it may piss me off, or make me uncomfortable. That promotes awareness and change, or at least some discussion.

And perhaps the greatest peace of art is in the brush stroke of our suffering.

Martial arts is not for hurting people, it’s for protecting people.

If you’re making art, you are not separate from your brand.

In martial arts, the biggest enemy is self. Inside you struggle because you want to prove something.

Zhang Yimou tried to use martial arts to talk about Chinese culture, Chinese people. What do they think, what do they want and what do they hope.

I think that music is still art, even if it’s commercialised.