“You must be like me; you must suffer in rhythm.”

I exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating.

You are — your life, and nothing else.

I am not asking for sensational revelations, but I would like to sense the meaning of that minute, to feel it’s urgency.

It was odd, he thought, that a man could hate himself as though he were someone else.

Existence is prior to essence.

Man is nothing else but what he makes of himself.

I think of death only with tranquility, as an end. I refuse to let death hamper life. Death must enter life only to define it.

For an occurrence to become an adventure, it is necessary and sufficient for one to recount it.

It’s strange. I felt less lonely when I didn’t know you.

Genius is what a man invents when he is looking for a way out.

You’re lucky. I’m always conscious of myself —in my mind. Painfully conscious.

A madman’s ravings are absurd in relation to the situation in which he finds himself, but not in relation to his madness.

It is disgusting – Why must we have bodies?

Once you hear the details of victory, it is hard to distinguish it from a defeat.

Hell is – other people!

Every existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness, and dies by chance.

The only music I don’t like is bad music.

Men, like musical instruments, seem made to be played upon.

I’m just a musician and a record producer.

When my dad played me ‘Walking Man,’ I heard those chord changes and that melody, it completely blew me away. Maybe you wouldn’t really hear the James Taylor influences in my music, but they’re definitely buried in there.

Churches have given us great treasures such as music and architecture. Whether that pays for the harm they have done is another matter.

There may be trouble ahead – But while there’s moonlight, and music, and love, and romance -Let’s face the music and dance.

Let’s face the music and dance.

Skin on skin his heart beat an orchestra against her chest. Love never tires of music like this.