“If my face was covered, I would be useless.”

People hate people who are good at things. People hate people who are cute.

You know it’s hard for me to, like, act the way I’ve been acting. And, like, being, like, nice to everyone. And I think I deserve to be acknowledged for that.

Our first idea is a grand opening, a big launch, a press release, or major media coverage. We default to thinking we need an advertising budget. Our delusion is that we should be Transformers and not The Blair Witch Project.

The only people who have control over their careers are the ones you see on the covers of magazines.

At 15 I auditioned for 42nd Street in Australia. Dein Perry was in that show. I actually got the job but I couldn’t do it because I was only 15. Legally I needed to have another 15-year-old to cover consecutive nights.

A diamond was laying in the street covered with dirt. Many fools passed by. Someone who knew diamonds picked it up.

There is an intuitive knowing within us that we are eternal but this gets covered over with the noise we create while identifying with the impermanent.

Cover that bosom that I must not see: souls are wounded by such things.

Unconverted men walk over the pit of hell on a rotten covering.

You can’t judge a book by its cover, can you?