I don't like too much by-standing, on-looking, and spectator-behavior in people's lives.
However great one's gift of language may be, there is always something that one cannot tell.
I am not good. I am not virtuous. I am not sympathetic. I am not generous. I am merely and above all a creature of intense passionate feeling. I feel—everything. It is my genius. It burns me like fire.
I do not see any beauty in self-restraint.
A genius who does not know that he is a genius is no genius.
There is really no right and wrong. I recognize no right and wrong.
I am lithe, but fragile from constant involuntary self-analysis.
For me, art, and especially music, exist to elevate us as far as possible above everyday existence.
Grief manifests differently in different people. We all get through things in our own time.
We seek opinions that are likely to support what we want to be true.
I really appreciate the way you don't appreciate me, said my subconscious as I agreed to go out with her yet again.