“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.”

I’ve just got to let my teammates know in practice, without even telling them, that I don’t think I’m ahead of anybody.

You can’t speak openly about everything.

Coaching staff: I know there’s days you look at that film and you want to kill me. I’m not playing defense, taking bad shots, getting too many techs. But you always believe that I can be the guy.

If I come to work every day and do my job, work as hard as I can, be a great teammate, the rest of that stuff will take care of itself.

I’m going to show you my faults, I’m going to show you my insecurities, I’m going to be real.

People always think women meet us in the hotel lobby, but it’s the opposite.

If I’m educated and passionate about a topic, I’ll answer the question. But I also know when to shut the hell up.

If he had 30 points, nine rebounds and eight assists, I can tell you exactly how he did it, what type of shots he made and who he passed to.

When you got people behind you, you can do whatever.

I’m just more content with myself. Like, if I’ve got something to say, I want to get it off of my chest.

You sacrificed for us – you’re the real MVP.

I like to sit on things and digest them and then I’ll figure out my next move, but I never said I was right for doing anything.

I’m a big competitor.

I know when somebody is trying to get something out of me for clicks. And sometimes I feel like giving it to them.

I’m always hungry. I want to be the best.

With a versatile player, there’s no spot on the court you can’t pass him the ball. You can do anything.

I go to dance clubs…about once a year just to justify the other 364 days I spend in my apartment going ‘God, what idiots!’

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.

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.