And you’re stuck like a hook through the roof of your mouthTired of living for your sick daysEvery day makes you sickTired of living just get paidWhen you’re dying to livebut you can’t

Who will read these poems when the people are gone?

Nice customs curtsy to great kings.

A lot of mothers will do anything for their children, except let them be themselves.

If you're wearing a Bluetooth thing and you've got that thing on your belt, you are working for somebody else. You are not the guy in charge. That's a really good social status indicator.

I like the fact that I'm involved in a career that gives me so many different mediums to perform in.

I wanted to write it long before I wrote Every Night, Josephine! I'd been thinking about it a long time.

that you seemed almost as fearful of notice and praise as other women were of neglect. (Edmund to Fanny)

For we are so preciously loved by God that we cannot even comprehend it.

I don't have anything left. My strength is pouring out of me just as my blood is. I've been in a death-storm countless times before. Is this death in its true form?

Let he who would move the world, first complete an environmental impact assessment and a 90-day public comment period.

I had rather eleven died nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.