“We feel like there are way too many problems in the world, and there’s nothing we can do to solve them. We forget how to be compassionate and start to feel hopeless.”

Now, I can’t help but feel inferior. When I’m out in public in Afghanistan, I feel inferior because I’m doing everything I can to stay hidden, silent.

Despite my own personal views about that policy. It reinforces to me that I want to be part of the solution – and I want my work to be part of the solution – not part of the problem.

Anything which must be understood by millions of people is so hopelessly divorced from how it is that it becomes a form of fiction.

You are some kind of a mystery suspended between two eternities. And in that moment, when a mind looks out at a world and asks the question, ‘What is it?’ In that moment art can be created.

This began, most recognizably, with the rejection of politically-oriented thinking as essentially a hopeless waste of intellectual effort.

The colour grey makes you feel uneasy, makes things seem complicated and hopeless, it upsets the notion of black and white.

O Hope! Dazzling, radiant Hope! What a change thou bringest to the hopeless; brightening the darkened paths, and cheering the lonely way.

Self-censorship is insulting to the self. Timidity is a hopeless way forward.

Hopeless are those who suffers the curse of heaven-so be hopeful.

I am really, truly a hopeless romantic, myself, and I am also obsessed with past lives, knowing someone from a past life and knowing that right away, when you meet them.