All these years of thinking, ending up like this: In front of all this beauty, understanding nothing.

But nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight / Got to kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight.

When you know even for a moment That it's your time Then you can walk with the power Of a thousand generations

One day you're waiting for the sky to fall, The next you're dazzled by the beauty of it all.

Sometimes the best map will not guide you, you can't see what's round the bend. Sometimes the road leads through dark places, sometimes the darkness is your friend

I'd always loved poetry and I'd always loved writing music and composing music, but I hadn't thought of putting the two together until around that time.

Little round planet in a big universe, sometimes it looks blessed, sometimes it looks cursed. Depends what you look at obviously, but even more it depends on the way that you see.

And I'm wondering where the lions are.

The trouble with normal is it only gets worse.

Beautiful rocks - beautiful grass Beautiful soil where they both combine Beautiful river - covering sky Never thought of possession, but all this was mine.

Gotta kick at the darkness til it bleeds daylight.

You're the right colour for the Angel of Death, Mister Cale. But a little short.' 'I could cut your head off and stand on it. Then I'd be taller.

The most important progress and success can't be seen. If you can validate yourself internally, then external validation becomes a byproduct.

Destiny is what you make it; otherwise you are at the mercy of fate.

My Potentials are 600, 000 Times More Than I Use Right Now_nickc

One thing that fiction does is it allows us to take big picture questions, big issues, big moral and socio-political changes and see how they play out on real people's lives, with real individuals.

There was, I think, never any reason to believe in any innate superiority of the male, except his superior muscle.

Mystery is in the morning, and mystery in the night, and the beauty of mystery is everywhere; but still the plain truth remains, that mouth and purse must be filled.

Jesus was all right, but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It's them twisting it that ruins it for me.

But where, after all, would be the poetry of the sea were there no wild waves?

What I've learned is, if I have to go out and speak, the best way to get people's attention is to tell them a story, tell them a story that came from my corazón.