If memories had a smell, it would be the fragrance of camphor, sweet and secure, like clearly remembered happiness, sweet and melancholy, like forgotten sorrow.
To write is to breathe life into the shadows of our thoughts, to give form to the formless.
I don't sing for the critics. I sing for the fans.
Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted in one moment, would you capture it or just let it slip?