A real decision makes one humble, one knows that it is at the mercy of more things that can be named.

There are so many ways of being despicable it quite makes one’s head spin. But the way to be really despicable is to be contemptuous of other people’s pain.

Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.

You don’t have a home until you leave it and then, when you have left it, you never can go back.

People are too various to be treated so lightly. I am too various to be trusted.

Confusion is a luxury which only the very, very young can possibly afford and you are not that young anymore

If you cannot love me, I will die. Before you came I wanted to die, I have told you many times. It is cruel to have made me want to live only to make my death more bloody.

There are women who have forgotten that to be a woman doesn't simply mean humiliation, doesn't simply mean bitterness. I haven't forgotten it yet...I'm not going to forget it.

The world is mostly divided between madmen who remember and madmen who forget. Heroes are rare.

This was not as real as my despairing sense that nothing was real for me, nothing would ever be real for me again – unless, indeed, this sensation of falling was reality…

The real troubles with living is that living is so banal.

It is the most fundamental thing I know about being alive: Everything that lasts is invention followed by tenacious faith.

A Godly mother's seed of faith yields a bounty of faithfulness.

Silence hides nothing. Words conceal.

After the film it was raining, a light steady rain. Ruthless neon on the wet streets like busted candy.

Today, because photography exercises such a profound influence upon the study of art, we tend to disregard the way in which prints continue to function as information.

His eyes are the color of honey. These are the eyes I remember from my dreams.

We'll jump off that bridge when we come to it.

Gradually I became aware that professing English because I loved poems was like practicing vivisection because I loved dogs.

We are the masters of our fate, the captains of our souls, because we have the power to control our thoughts.

The Chinamen built the railroad, the Indians saved the Pilgrim, And in return, the Pilgrim killed 'em. They call it it Thanksgiving, I call your holiday 'hell-day.'