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I get satisfaction out of making a meal for people that I love and having them enjoy it. But there's not really anything in my life that I do that's just for me that feeds my soul like music does.

You can mark in desire the rising of the tide, as the appetite more and more invades the personality, appealing, as it does, not merely to the sensory side of the self, but to its ideal components as well.

I'm a person that doesn't have that many goals or plans. I feel like I'm the wind and I blow through life; it's whatever comes to me. I very much respect nature. Whatever happens to me, I'm happy and I embrace it.

The satisfaction derived from the fleeting things of life is not lasting; and our wants remain unfulfilled. There is thus a general sense of dissatisfaction accompanied by all kinds of worries.

If I like something, I then have to study every single aspect of it to find out if there's more things that I would like, and it's just this weird hunger to want more. I always feel like there's so much that exists.

What I think is so amazing about having everything, and feeling like I have everything, is that I don't really find happiness within materialistic things. Like, it's cool if I can buy myself a new car, and I think it's amazing for a week, but then the thrill is over, and I'm like, 'Oh, so I guess that wasn't really happiness.'

For me, everything that you're passionate about always comes with a little pain. That's how life is, and that's how I want to live it. I don't want it to be balanced and ordinary.

Both our senses and our passions are a supply to the imperfection of our nature; thus they show that we are such sort of creatures as to stand in need of those helps which higher orders of creatures do not.

When we don't get any treats, we feel depleted, resentful, and angry, and we feel justified in self-indulgence. We start to crave comfort - and grab that comfort wherever we can, even if it means breaking good habits.