“The artist shall never run out of paint. Because the artist, my love, never runs out of pain.”

I never loved you because you had it all together. I loved you because you were falling apart and still saw fit to let me into your world.

I am not the kind of lost that needs finding. I am the kind of lost that needs healing.

I learned the hard way that not everything in life was meant to be beautiful.

I wasn’t running away from you. I was running towards myself.

An empath does not sleep. She listens to the wind and wonders if its crying.

Maybe we needed a storm, to miss the peace a little. Maybe we needed the shadows, to remember our beautiful light.

If you only stand for something until it gets uncomfortable, then you never really stood at all.

You are the only song I know all the words to.

How tremendously brave to be shattered in a way that makes stained-glass windows from the pain.

Healing and the resentment cannot live in the same body. One must suffocate to let the other survive.

When darkness came, and it did, I learned that I can scream at the top of my lungs without making any sound at all.

The opposite of growing isn’t being saved. Its finding peace.

I was the storm you could never silence, nor wish away.

I am not the kind of lost that needs finding. I am the kind of lost that needs healing.

I was the storm you could never silence, nor wish away.

Light is much more than the absence of darkness. And you, my love, are much more than the absence of him.

Fear doesn’t go away. The warrior and the artist live by the same code of necessity, which dictates that the battle must be fought anew every day.

The relationship with a producer and an artist is really special. It’s got to be love and respect, amazing mutual respect for each other, because that’s what makes a good record.

Both the artist and the lover know that perfection is not loveable. It is the clumsiness of a fault that makes a person lovable.

Not every artist is a role model.

One of my goals is to find an unsigned YouTube artist and feature them on my album. That’s what I wished someone would’ve done for me.

No artist is ahead of his time. He is his time; it is just that others are behind the times.

Glorious bouquets and storms of applause are the trimmings which every artist naturally enjoys.

There’s an inherent message in my work relating to recycling and the nature of value, but my artistic inspiration is fired by the qualities within the raw materials.