If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.

You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.

Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.

The function of freedom is to free someone else.

If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it.

Along with the idea of romantic love, she was introduced to another--physical beauty. Probably the most destructive ideas in the history of human thought. Both originated in envy, thrived in insecurity, and ended in disillusion.

She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.

Don't ever think I fell for you, or fell over you. I didn't fall in love, I rose in it.

You can't own a human being. You can't lose what you don't own. Suppose you did own him. Could you really love somebody who was absolutely nobody without you? You really want somebody like that? Somebody who falls apart when you walk out the door? You don't, do you? And neither does he. You're turning over your whole life to him. Your whole life, girl. And if it means so little to you that you can just give it away, hand it to him, then why should it mean any more to him? He can't value you more than you value yourself.

At some point in life the world’s beauty becomes enough. You don’t need to photograph, paint or even remember it. It is enough.