“I’m a teenager, but I’m independent – I have my own apartment, I have my own life.”

Here in the big city people spend their time thinking about work and about money.

That’s what I have to give the people, good energy and good feelings.

I’s all about finding balance in your life.

As of now they are still very young so that has come in the form of dress up, make believe and singing songs.

I’ve never been to the gym. I do nothing.

You don’t have to have an attitude if you’re famous.

My everyday look has definitely become more low maintenance, but accessories are everything.

Never give up and always believe in yourself.

I wouldn’t say it’s competitive. I think everyone has their time.

It’s wrong for a guy to have no personality, no heart. Because I don’t care about style or money.

I watch that. How does he treat the waiter? How does he treat the coat-check girl? How does he treat the driver?

I don’t like fights. I don’t like aggressive people.

I just knew how to smile.

I missed out on everything. Sometimes on the street I see teenagers hanging out and going to the movies, going to concerts, and I get so jealous.

Working out a lot isn’t necessary, but I am very active, and my body can endure intense workouts.

It really puts a damper on your perspective of other girls.

I’m trying to pay off my apartment so I have something tangible. I actually figured out if I paid off my place my reward would be that I would pay an extra four grand a year in taxes.

I live in an apartment building built in 1925, and it hasn’t been heavily renovated, so I feel very much connected to that time and what went on in that place.

I hope to keep bringing home bound paper books until my shelves snap from their weight, until there is no room in my apartment for a bed or a couch or another human being, until the floorboards collapse and my eyes blur to dim. But the book, bless it, is not a simple thing.

I couldn’t wait to go on tour back then. I would be sitting at my day job or my apartment, just itching to go. There were so many adventures that were about to happen.

We went from apartment to apartment by ourselves. One of the best memories I had was when we moved into our first apartment, no bed, no furniture and we just sat in the living room and just hugged each other. We thought we made it.

His writing is that of someone whose whole life was spent in apartments, with lifts, stairwells, muffled voices behind closed doors, and sounds through walls.

When I was 12, I forgot the keys to my parent’s apartment. So I simply climbed up seven floors to get in.

With my hand in his, I looked at all the apartment buildings with rushes of love, peering in the wide streetside windows that revealed living rooms painted in dark burgandies and matte reds.