“Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.”

By all means sometimes be alone; salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear; dare to look in thy chest; and tumble up and down what thou findest there.

A tale in everything.

And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.

O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive!

There is creation in the eye.

Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music; there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.

Rest and be thankful.

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind.

Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.

Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.

Love betters what is best.

May books and nature be their early joy!

One daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.

The ocean is a mighty harmonist.

The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth: Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes, She scans the future with the eye of gods.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.

What reason, like the careful ant, draws laboriously together, the wind of accident sometimes collects in a moment.

Movies are a collective art. Art by proxy.

We don’t, as a collective life on this planet, all get groovy together or all sink into ignorance together. One by one we liberate our souls, our individual souls, from the cycle by our own realizations.

In love, unlike most other passions, the recollection of what you have had and lost is always better than what you can hope for in the future.

If I have a collection of songs for an EP or mixtape, I create the narrative afterwards; but usually with an album, I have a concept and the name first.

We are carrying collectively a lot of trauma, especially those of us in the African-American community. And if we’re not careful, it’ll overtake us, and we’ll self-destruct.

I had a guitar when I was 6 or 7, a plastic guitar with the Beatles’ faces on it. It would be a collector’s item now. It would fetch a hefty sum, I imagine.

At Age 11, I used to listen to Madonna’s Immaculate Collection every day