Come on, get up, get up, you can't just sit! But he was still crying and that had to be finished.

I often wonder if God recognizes His own son the way we've dressed him up, or is it dressed him down?

The zipper displaces the button and a man lacks just that much time to think while dressing at dawn, a philosophical hour, and thus a melancholy hour.

But you can't make people listen. They have to come round in their own time, wondering what happened and why the world blew up around them. It can't last.

Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were heading for shore.

The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies.

The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us.

It doesn't matter what you do...so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.

It didn't come from the Government down. There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship, to start with, no! Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God.

I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough, it’ll make sense.

Digression is the soul of wit. Take the philosophic asides away from Dante, Milton or Hamlet's father's ghost and what stays is dry bones.

Progress, You can see how well you are doing on achieving your goals, after you start something.

Wisdom is oftentimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.

I sang my song called "In This Song." David Foster wrote the song for me. I thought that I should sing a ballad song.

To me, this is not an information age. It's an age of networked intelligence, it's an age of vast promise.

The rise of National Socialism is the protest of a people against a State that denies the right to work.

In the City of Death, there is pitch darkness and huge clouds of dust, neither sister nor brother is there. This body is frail, old age is overtaking it.

Sapere aude. Dare to be wise.

Siberia is so big, it’s almost more an idea than a place

The poem is a structure of signifiers which absorbs and reconstitutes the signified.

I have ambitions to do a Broadway record one of these days and get in the studio with like, a real orchestra. I'm a big musical theatre geek.