And why love things you were destined to lose? Why let yourself feel things if the feelings were doomed to die?

As if it were possible for one person to care about another and still treat him or her like this.

But what if time worked the other way around?What if what his adolescent self had felt then was the ghost of his present one, sitting here on a sagging bench, beckoning him into his future?

And didn't time always slow, anyway, the closer you came to what you wanted?

There is no such thing as a perfect phrase, or a private language, and . . . time only runs the one way.

Some people think the real them is whoever they are when they're not around other people.

It's like Charlie's dreamed everything he lived through here.

Everything's always changing, Charlie. We become who we are. The mask melts into the face.

Three’s all you need to change the world. Look at the Bolsheviks, or the Jimi Hendrix Experience.

William, an artist is someone who combines a desperate need to be understood with the fiercest love of privacy-

No amount of art, even of the Great American variety, can elevate you above, or insulate you from, the divisions, the cataclysms, of ordinary life.

Man wanted a home, a place for warmth, or comfort, first of physical warmth, then the warmth of the affections.

Locally lived hip-hop culture that is giving many of America's youth the tool they need to survive and thrive in America, in the face of public policy that have written too many young people off.

Approved attributes and their relation to face make every man his own jailer; this is a fundamental social constraint even though each man may like his cell.

We cannot accomplish as much as we think we can in one day and we can accomplish more than we think we can in a year. Isn't that true?

I don't have a great intellect, and I can't compete with people who do. I feel certain things. And all I know, and all I can do, is what I feel.

The eternity of the spirit does not begin after death ... but is, like God, always present.

My real self is probably more creative and more frightening than any sort of drink or drug-induced state.

Never saw the branch you are sittin on, unless they are trying to hang you from it.

I'll toss my coins in the fountain, Look for clovers in grassy lawns Search for shooting stars in the night Cross my fingers and dream on.

Just remember that nothing is as bad as it seems and nothing is as good as it sometimes appears.