“I think we all just love to be together and there are just not enough reasons to be together.”

I didn’t go to art school. So, I never had this moment of taking time to actually learn how to make things and learn about art history and learn about people that came before me.

I always feel like I don’t know how to express myself. I need to be with people that understand my language.

I did a project on immigration, which is something that has always been close to my heart. For me, immigration was the way to evolve, to make people better.

Everyone moves for reason. You need a reason to leave everything behind.

When I get back into the city, it doesn’t matter where you plop me down, I have my friends around me and I feel so blessed.

You need people with brain and heart and soul that give it all. You need young people on skateboards and you need people running around making noise.

I love lawyers and bankers, they are my family, but I don’t want to live with them. It doesn’t make a city.

To all those who have suffered as a consequence of our troubled past I extend my sincere thoughts and deep sympathy. With the benefit of historical hindsight we can all see things which we would wish had been done differently or not at all.

All l mixed up with them, like trying to, having to, move your arms and legs with strings, only the same strings are hitched to all the other arms and legs and the others all trying and they don’t know why either except that the strings are all in one another’s way.

The worst part of being gay in the twentieth century is all that damn disco music to which one has to listen.

Here is all I ask of a book- give me everything. Everything, and don’t leave out a single word.

We all live in a house on fire, no fire department to call; no way out, just the upstairs window to look out of while the fire burns the house down with us trapped, locked in it.

I took his suggestion to heart and went from a “know-it-all” to a “learn-it-all.”

I’ve always believed that dreams were both the love letters and the hate mail of the subconscious.

Physical beauty is passing – a transitory possession – but beauty of the mind, richness of the spirit, tenderness of the heart – I have all these things – aren’t taken away but grow! Increase with the years!