“Memories consume, like opening the wound, I’m picking me apart again. You all assume, I’m safe here in my room, unless I try to start again.”

This isn’t what I wanted to be, I never thought that what I said would have you running from me.

When life leaves us blind, love keeps us kind.

I always wanted to be a rock star. That was my childhood dream. That’s what I told everybody I was going to be when I grew up.

This lack of self-control I fear is never ending.

Like it doesn’t cater to the rich and abandon the poor.

Success is nice, but it shouldn’t be the only reason why you’re a musician.

Even those who never frown eventually break down.

Who cares if one more light goes out?

No need to hear your voice or see your face to know that you are with me.

You’re constantly trying to prove yourself, even after you’ve made it.

Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past, bringing back these memories I wish I didn’t have.

I’m strong on the surface, not all the way through. I’ve never been perfect, but neither have you.

I’m strong on the outside, not all the way through. I’ve never been perfect, but neither have you.

Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed

The reality in terms of the way the music has connected globally has exceeded what any of us could’ve imagined.

I can’t fall back, I came too far/Hold myself up, and love my scars.

Intelligence is the wife, imagination is the mistress, memory is the servant.

The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant.

The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant.

It was a grey day, that made me think like I was in a dream.

We know how tough it is to find purpose in the memory of the loved one you lost. It will take time – but you will find it, and we will find our purpose as a nation.

There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.

One day you will look at those photos with much kinder eyes and say, ‘Dear God, I was a beautiful thing!

I am an omnivorous reader with a strangely retentive memory for trifles.