I enjoy melancholic music and art. They take me to places I don't normally get to go.

Work was intended not to give a man a reason to live, but rather to give him a means to live.

There is this common notion that people are shallow and ignorant until they go out and see the world. I, on the other hand, went out and in comparison realized I was in pretty good standing.

Fame is an island, and right before the castaway, the getaway of being known without being known.

Like most arts, the link between the mind and the pen can chain you like an enslaved workaholic. Even on an intended vacation you suddenly have this killer urge to record whatever the vacation may teach.