Emilie Autumn Quotes

We are machines, all of us ...
And what does a machine do when too much is assigned to it? When too much coal, too much ink, too much information is forced violently through its channels?
Why, it stutters, it chokes, finally, it shuts down.
Where do they put the broken machines?
There is only one place.

Women who focus on style over substance usually find themselves in a big fucking hole, with other men who want to fuck the hole. Oh so smooth, and none sophistacted. Because, you know, how sophisticated can hole-fucking really be

Thank you.
It used to be knee length, but then I discovered that when I get angry I like to cut things.
I'm not allowed to have scissors any more.
It's still pretty lengthy, but I've been threatening to shave half of it for the past week and nobody seems to believe me ...
I do it all myself though because I scream when I'm touched and that scares people.

It is this, not the spirits, that frightens us; shall we never be free, even after we die?

It is not seen as insane when a fighter, under an attack that will inevitable lead to his death, chooses to take his own life first. In fact, this act has been encouraged for centuries, and is accepted even now as an honorable reason to do the deed. How is it any different when you are under attack by your own mind?

I still own my heart, which I know because it hurts so much.

If leeches ate peaches instead of my blood, then I would be free to drink tea in the mud!

I'm a big stupid history nerd.

Here you sit on your high-backed chair
Wonder how the view is from there
I wouldn't know 'cause I like to sit
Upon the floor, yeah upon the floor
If you like we could play a game
Let's pretend that we are the same
But you will have to look much closer
Than you do, closer than you do

And I'm far too tired to stay here anymore
And I don't care what you think anyway
'Cause I think you were wrong about me
Yeah what if you were, what if you were

And what if I'm a snowstorm burning
What if I'm a world unturning
What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow, much too deep
What if I'm the kindest demon
Something you may not believe in
What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen to sleep

I know you've got it figured out
Tell me what I am all about
And I just might learn a thing or two
Hundred about you, maybe about you
I'm the end of your telescope
I don't change just to suit your vision
'Cause I am bound by a fraying rope
Around my hands, tied around my hands

And you close your eyes when I say I'm breaking free
And put your hands over both your ears
Because you cannot stand to believe I'm not
The perfect girl you thought
Well what have I got to lose

And what if I'm a weeping willow
Laughing tears upon my pillow
What if I'm a socialite who wants to be alone
What if I'm

My reasons to live Were my reasons to die But at least they were mine Now I've freedom unbound Cut the laces of life

Perfume was first created to mask the stench of foul and offensive odors ...
Spices and bold flavorings were created to mask the taste of putrid and rotting meat ...
What then was music created for?
Was it to drown out the voices of others, or the voices within ourselves?
I think I know.

I do not have OCD OCD OCD.

And falling's just another way to fly.

He cried when I left, which I find to be standard male behavior.

I was reading everything under the sun from music history to feminist literature to Shakespeare, which is why I'm not a complete idiot at this time.

Seeing metaphors in everything again.

Well, I've been a musician my whole life. When I was two, I would sing the theme from Star Wars in my crib; my mom taped it for proof. Then, when I was five, I asked for a violin. No one knew why I would want one, but my wish was granted and I ended up a classically trained fiddler by age 12. The only problem with that was, when you're a classical violinist, everybody expects you to be satisfied with playing Tchaikovsky for the rest of your life, and saying you want to play jazz, rock, write songs, sing your songs, hook up your fiddle to a guitar amp, sleep with your 4-track recorder, mess around with synths, dress like Tinkerbell in combat boots, AND play Tchaikovsky is equivalent to spitting on the Pope.

I feel as though, if I were to extend my hand just a little toward the pool where the ideas ferment, I could grab at the idea and pull it out of the pool and onto the floor where ideas must stand before the jury of the brain. There, it must present itself, still from the pool, and a bit shivery because new ideas are not given a towel to dry off with, towels being reserved for proven theories; new ideas are simply pulled and stood up, and asked to explain themselves - not a very pleasant thing really, which is why so many people go into the room where the pool is. The exercise is exhausting not to mention a bit difficult to watch, if you are at all a sympathetic creature. What was my idea, anyways?

I can explain myself: If you want to be safe, walk in the middle of the street. I'm not joking. You've been told to look both ways before crossing the street, and the sidewalk is your friend, right? Wrong. I've spent years walking sidewalks at night. I've looked around me when it was dark, when there were men following me, creeping out of alleyways, attempting to goad me into speaking to them and shouting obscenities at me when I wouldn't, and I suddenly realised that the only place left to go was the middle of street. But why would I risk it? Because the odds are in my favour. In the States, someone is killed in a car accident on average every 12.5 minutes, while someone is raped on average every 2.5 minutes. Even when factoring in that, one, I am generously including ALL car-related accidents and not just those involving accidents, and two, that the vast majorities of rapes still go unreported […] And, thus, this is now the way I live my life: out in the open, in the middle of everything, because the middle of the street is actually the safest place to walk.

Life is not like Gloomy Sunday, with a second ending when the people are disturbed.

Being brave means to know something is scary, difficult, and dangerous, and doing it anyway, because the possibility of winning the fight is worth the chance of losing it.

If you're going to die, then die. If you are going to live, then fight.

I'll tell the truth; all of my songs
Are pretty much the fucking same
I'm not a faerie but I need
More than this life so I became
This creature representing more to you
Than just another girl
And if I had a chance to change my mind
I wouldn't for the world
Twenty years
Sinking slowly
Can I trust you
But I don't want to

I don't want to be a legend
Oh well that's a god damned lie - I do
To say I do this for the people
I admit is hardly true
You tell me everything's all right
As though it's something you've been through
You think this torment is romantic
Well it's not except to you
Twenty years
Sinking slowly
Can I trust you
But I don't want to

I will swallow
If it will help my sea level go down
But I'll come back to haunt you if I drown

Low tide and high tea
The oysters are waiting for me
If I'm not there on time
I'll send my emissary
If I photoshop you
Out of every picture I could
Go quietly quiet
But would that do any good
Will it hurt? No it won't
Then what am I so afraid of
Filthy victorians
They made me what I'm made of
The brighter the light
The darker the shadow
I don't need a minder
I've made up my mind
Go away

EA: Is it the smoke that smells like vanilla?
Audience: Yeah.
EA: Yeah, they do that to mask the chemicals that are actually killing you.

History written in pencil is easily erased, but crayon is forever.

Did you know sometimes it frightens me--
when you say my name and I can't see you?
will you ever learn to materialize before you speak?
impetuous boy, if that's what you really are.
how many centuries since you've climbed a balcony
or do you do this every night with someone else?
you tell me that you'll never leave
and I am almost afraid to believe it.
why is it me you've chosen to follow?
did you like the way I look when I am sleeping?
was my hair more fun to tangle?
are my dreams more entertaining?
do you laugh when I'm complaining that I'm all alone?
where were you when I searched the sea
for a friend to talk to me?
in a year where will you be?
is it enough for you to steal into my mind
filling up my page with music written in my hand
you know I'll take the credit for I must have made you come to me somehow.
but please try to close the curtains when you leave at night,
or I'll have to find someone to stay and warm me.
will you always attend my midnight tea parties--
as long as I set it at your place?
if one day your sugar sits untouched
will you have gone forever?
would you miss me in a thousand years--
when you will dry another's tears?
but you say you'll never leave me
and I wonder if you'll have the decency
to pass through my wall to the next room
while I dress for dinner
but when I'm stuck in conversation
with s

Revenge itself may indeed be the best revenge, but slaying one's enemy does not give back what they stole.

It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for; I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill.

Why can I never go back to bed? Who's is the voice ringing in my head? Where is the sense in these desperate dreams? Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?

And if I end up with blood on my hands, well I know, that you'll understand, 'cause I fight like a girl.

Once upon a time is now.

What's the big fucking deal? Lots of amazing people have committed suicide, and they turned out alright.

I could have guessed it all along, cuz now some drama queen is gonna write a song for me

Then I break a glass and I slit my very innermost thigh so that I can pretend that I'm menstru
well, unavailable.

You," he said, "are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain.

There is no suggestion box in the Psych Ward.

I feel as though I have a balloon filled with 4th of July sparklers that is ready to explode inside my chest I want to be a firework to live my life blindingly bright and sparkling and then to go out quickly to burn for a short time but very brightly

I've learned that I work best when I'm entirely naked. The recording process was done that way.

I love to write and to get to know the people who are listening.

There is no such thing as justice, all the best that we can hope for is revenge.

If you want to be safe, walk in the middle of the street.

Simply put, if you are a Wayward Victorian Girl, I'll find you.

If that happens again someone's gonna get shot ... with an arrow of love!

We had people fainting during the last tour, but I'm aiming for people to actually drop dead at this one.

You young romantics find your "soul" in the strangest places.

I smile to myself knowing that they may be dead.

Going back to the basis, the phrase 'Fight Like A Girl', and we've all heard that growing up. And by that they mean that you're some kind of weakling and have no skills as a male. It's said to little boys when they can't fight yet, and it ridicules us. By the time we were born, the most of us hear things which program you to accept and know that you are less than your male counter part. It comes apparent in the way you're paid for your job, it comes apparent when yóu are not allowed to go outside after a certain hour because you stand a good chance of getting raped while no one says that to your boyfriend. While women, anywhere, live in some kind of fear, there is no equality and that is mathematically impossible. We cannot see that change or solved in our lifetimes, but we have to do everything that we can. We should remind ourselves that we are fifty-one percent. Everyone should know that fighting like a girl is a positive thing and that there is not inherently anything wrong with us by the fact that we are born like ladies. That is a beautiful thing that we should never be put down because of. Being compared to a woman should only make a man feel stronger. It should be a compliment. In this world we're creating it actually is.

I remember this one guy who came to our show in Texas or something and he had painted his shirt "real men fight like a girl", and I cried, because he was going away in the army next day. He bought my book because he wanted something he co

Oh, and I certainly don't suffer from schizophrenia. I quite enjoy it. And so do I.

You know the games I play
And the words I say
When I want my own way
You know the lies I tell
When you've gone through hell
And I say I can't stay
You know how hard it can be
To keep believing in me
When everything and everyone
Becomes my enemy and when
There's nothing more you can do
I'm gonna blame it on you
It's not the way I want to be
I only hope that in the end you will see
It's the Opheliac in me

I am personally not a lover of audiobooks in general, and I am indeed one of those people who don't count listening to a book being read by someone else as actually having read that book. It simply is not reading.

Across the sky
I will come for you
If you ask me to
Demystify
Your uncommon dreams
Stranger things have come true
Fear no more the midnight
Fear no more the sea
Close your eyes, regret nothing
You're safe with me
Look into the shadows
Step into the mist
Search your land but doubt never
I still exist
Ask yourself: is this all there is
Take no answer but the one you find
I have put my faith in aberrations of your kind
But even if you're in my mind.
Should we hear the silence
Should we hear the noise
I don't need this blind acceptance
I have made my choice
Light lives in the darkness
Beauty lives in pain
In destruction we may lose ourselves
But still I will remain
Across the sky
Across the sky
See beyond the moment
Think beyond the day
Hear the word
Hear the word

I only sleep with people I love, which is why I have insomnia.

Are you made of stardust too? Are the angels after you?