“Art is the means we have of undoing the damage of haste. It's what everything else isn't.”

“It is difficult to undo our own damage, and to recall to our presence that which we have asked to leave.”

“Science is what we understand well enough to explain to a computer; art is everything else.”

“We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else. To spend time trying to change that, well, it's like chasing clouds.”

“Happy thou art not; for what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get; and what thou hast, forgettest.”

“I didn't let her go. She went. It's not my fault.She did it.She could undo it. This is feeling so fucking famliar.Why do we even bother? Why do we make ourselves so open to such easy damage? Is it all loneliness? Is it all fear? Of is it just to experience those narcotic moments of belonging with someone else?”