“Like time suspended, a wound unmended – you and I. We had no ending, no said goodbye; For all my life, I’ll wonder why.”

It should be my right to mourn someone who has yet to leave this world but no longer wants to be part of mine.

Every time I see my name, I hear it in your voice.

Give me something I can write about.

Because sooner or later, all kinds of love – crazy love, wild love- fade into the same thing. The love becomes old and predictable -safe.

She would fondly call him her Frankenstein, this man who was a patchwork of all the things she had ever longed for.

I know how hard it is to have to love someone in secret.

That’s the thing about writers – on one hand everything is sacred to them, but, on the other, nothing really is.

To love is a dare, when hope and despair, are gates upon it hinges.

You won’t hear from me again after today, and I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be okay. Because I have to be.

Here and now I love you, for the moment you have my heart. But you are entitled to my future, you have no ownership of my past.

But tomorrow, tomorrow could be different, and that is what keeps me going today.

Here’s to those who wish us well, and the rest can go to hell!

We all need to follow our intuition, even if it takes us down the wrong path. Otherwise, you’ll always be second-guessing yourself.

Of all you’ve used against me, the worst has been my words.

The distance from you is measured in how far I’ve come.

Anything and everything, the two almost the same–everything says, have it all; anything, one to claim.

A Harvard study has shown that in fifteen cases in history where a rising and an established power interacted, ten ended in war.

I have to keep going to find out ultimately what is the matter with it in the end.

I know where I wanna end up. I’m ready to go, and I’m ready to learn. I’m ready to build, and I’m ready to establish my longevity.

For me, becoming isn’t about arriving somewhere or achieving a certain aim. I see it instead as forward motion, a means of evolving, a way to reach continuously toward a better self. The journey doesn’t end.

The essence of childhood, of course, is play, which my friends and I did endlessly on streets that we reluctantly shared with traffic.

The essence of childhood, of course, is play, which my friends and I did endlessly on streets that we reluctantly shared with traffic.

What do you want to be when you grow up? As if growing up is finite. As if at some point you become something and that’s the end.

So basically I did this whole show carrying 100lbs, looking out of one eye, dancing – and then my tits explode at the end. It’s not as easy as it looks!