My mind's my 9, my pen's my Mac-10. My target? All you wack niggaz who started rappin'.
Whether in music or in fiction, the most basic thing is rhythm. Your style needs to have good, natural, steady rhythm, or people won't keep reading your work.
And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.
One heart is not connected to another through harmony alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through their wounds
The journey I'm taking is inside me. Just like blood travels down veins, what I'm seeing is my inner self and what seems threatening is just the echo of the fear in my heart.
Sometimes it's not the people who change, it's the mask that falls off.
No matter what form the relationship might take, he was the only person she could picture sharing her life with.
At a young age, boys learn that to express compassion or empathy is to show weakness. They hear confusing messages that force them to repress their emotions, establish hierarchies, and constantly prove their masculinity. . . whether boys and later men have chosen to resist or conform to this masculine norm, there is loneliness, anxiety, and pain.
A remarkably revealing portrait.
You can rarely prove something to someone who does not want to see it proven, and even more to the point, you can almost never prove something to someone who has financial or ideological reasons to not see it proven.
I don't only like rock music. There are other forms of music that I find interesting. I would want to do everything, every kind of music. I wouldn't want to be limited to like playing heavy metal or whatever.