Only after a piece of music is done does my frontal cortex allow me to organize what might be trying to come out of my subconscious.

A lot of me figuring out how to love myself more involves finding the things that I'm ashamed of and looking them right in the eye.

You become more animalistic when you don't know what's coming next - you have to be on guard, but at the same time you're also more receptive.

Someone can only be vampiric if you allow it.

There is also a particular frustration that I have with language. It's so clumsy. And the reason I'm feeling that is more because on your breathing and your intonation than the actual words.

I had an unspoken treaty with myself to never lie in my lyrics, so, for a long time, when I wrote love songs, I would use genderless pronouns, like "dear" and "darling" - like some kind of granny!

It's very human to try to put things into boxes, and it's hard for us to reconcile with grey areas, and yet somehow that's the area I find the most poetic, the juiciest.

I try to have things change before I get bored, and I figure other people might enjoy that too; I try not to let anything repeat for long enough that you can get used to it.

I do love voices so much that I will use them and manipulate them. The presence of a human voice in a piece of music is really exciting, even if it's just someone's breathing.

With song titles, I try to keep a healthy sense of humor while saying something at the same time.

When you actually make a new friend, and you make music and laugh really hard together, that can give you a lot of confidence and nourishment and encouragement.

Life has no meaning, the moment you lose the illusion of being eternal.

Think? Why think! We have computers to do that for us.

Fear of death is form of stasis horrors. The dead weight of time.

Some of the most corrupt people that you will meet in life are working in corporate government law enforcement. They make criminals look like amateurs.

Joy is to fun what the deep sea is to a puddle. It’s a feeling inside that can hardly be contained.

The more Africa depends on aid the less opportunities it creates for its people

Marriage is a gamble, let's be honest.

Don’t ask me when be­cause I don’t re­mem­ber, but some­where along the way I keep for­get­ting to com­mit sui­cide.

Is it hot in the rolling mill? Are the hours long? Is $15 a day not enough? Then escape is easy. Simply throw up your job, spit on your hands, and write another "Rosenkavailer."

If you don't look out for others, who will look out for you?