A lot of people provide me with quotes. They suggest all kinds of things to say and I do, really, because I'm not very hip at all.

Religion is for people who fear hell, spirituality is for people who have been there.

Don’t you love the Oxford Dictionary? When I first read it, I thought it was a really really long poem about everything.

Tomorrow belongs to those who can hear it coming.

If I never wake again, I certainly will have lived while I was alive.

And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations. They're quite aware of what they're going through.

I don't know where I'm going from here, but I promise it won't be boring.

I suspect that dreams are an integral part of existence, with far more use for us than we've made of them...The fine line between the dream state and reality is at times, for me, quite grey.

The end comes when the infinites arrive.

I'm always amazed that people take what I say seriously. I don't even take what I am seriously.

Put on your red shoes, and dance the blues.

Sometimes letting go is simply changing the labels you place on an event. Looking at the same event with fresh eyes.

I call architecture 'petrified music'.

When we talk about compassion we talk in terms of being kind. But compassion is not so much being kind; it is being creative [enough] to wake a person up

Some of us, perhaps all of us, believe that it is legitimate to kill enemy soldiers in a war, as if war were a special circumstance that shrinks the sizes of enemy souls.

Man is always partial and is quite right to be. Even impartiality is partial.

I'm a terrible procrastinator. When we go to the airport, if they're not literally closing the door behind my sweaty, hyperventilating body, I feel I've been there too long.

What for others is style, for me is soul.

Expanding your notion of fun beyond a two-week vacation in Maui increases the chances you'll have more of it.

But instead of standing up for reason, our government is handing education over to the world of faith.

What is life if not the shadow of a fleeting dream?