I've never been somewhere I belonged, but there are places where I think I could be happy. Like San Francisco. Well, do art museums count? Because I feel like I belong in them.

A little bit closer to the stars, anything seemed possible.

Sometimes it was hard to breathe, knowing how small my world could be. Maybe in San Francisco it wouldn't feel like the universe was conspiring to keep me in a bubble.

Look at this beautiful world!

My life was being planned in sentences that started with 'We' instead of 'I', yet it felt like the most natural transition in the world.

They explored me high enough as mountain climbers reached the mountain tops.

Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.

Maybe everything we've ever done has been for love.

Johnny, can't you come out to play in your empty garden?

A man doesn't know what happiness is until he's married. By then it's too late.

Self-contemplation is apt to end in self-conceit.

I looked at Justin, and I was like: “Do you want me to go onstage for you?"

I turned to human suffering because - this may sound odd - animal suffering is more difficult for me to deal with.

Is there anyone to whom you entrust a greater number of serious matters than your wife? And is there anyone with whom you have fewer conversations?

What I've observed, and I think it's fair to give credit to the psychedelic experience for this, what I've observed is that nature builds on previously established levels of complexity.