Art is the reason I get up in the morning, but the definition ends there. It doesn't seem fair that I'm living for something I can't even define.

If you're not getting happier as you get older, then you're fuckin' up

I am getting nowhere with you and I can't let you go and I cant get through.

I don't take good pictures 'cause I have the kind of beauty that moves.

and half of learning to play is learning what not to playand she's learning the spaces she leaves have their own things to sayand she's trying to sing just enough so that the air around her movesand make music like mercy that gives what it is and has nothing to proveshe crawls out on a limb and begins to build her homeand it's enough just to look around and to know that she's not aloneup up up up up up up points the spire of the steeplebut god's work isn't done by godit's done by people

Art is why I get up in the morning, but my definition ends there. You know, it doesn't seem fair that I'm living for something I can't even define, but there you are, right there, in the meantime.

I don't like my language watered down, I don't like my edges rounded off.

We get a little further from perfection, each year on the road,I guess that's what they call character,I guess that's just the way it goes,better to be dusty than polished,like some store window mannequin,why don't you touch me where i'm rusty,let me stain your hands

I am not an angry girlBut it seems like I’ve got everyone fooledEvery time I say something they find hard to hearThey chalk it up to my anger, and never to their own fear

You broke me bodily.The heart ain't the half of it,And I'll never learn to laugh at itIn my good natured way.In fact, I'm laughing less in general,But I learned a lot at my own funeral.And I knew you'd be the death of me,So I guess that's the price I pay.

I mean, whatWhat if no one's watchingWhat if when we're deadWe are just deadI mean, whatWhat if it's just us down hereWhat if God is just an ideaSomeone put in your head

I know there is strength in the differences between us. I know there is comfort, where we overlap.

And she tried the high heels but she couldn't bring herself to prance.

Love is a piano dropped from a four story window and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. -Two Little Girls (Little Plastic Castle)

a lesson must be livedin order to be learnedand the clarity to see and stop this nowthat is what i've earned

Everyone is a fuckin' Napoleon.

And what if there are no damsels in distress?What if I knew that, and I called your bluff?Don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down,whether or not you ever show up?