Every moment happens twice: inside and outside, and they are two different histories.

It's still easier to find the correct Hoover bag than to find one pure person, one pure faith, on the globe.

In the end, your past is not my past and your truth is not my truth and your solution - is not my solution.

You must live life with the full knowledge that your actions will remain. We are creatures of consequence.

Full stories are as rare as honesty.

Cos if it's encyclopedias we've got enough, like, information... and if it's God, you've got the wrong house.

Greeting cards routinely tell us that everybody deserves love. No. Everybody deserves clean water. Not everybody deserves love all of the time.

Sacrifice was nine tenths of parenting.

But why think the more reasons there were to sin, the smaller the sin was?

One just has to look at the thing from a perspective that interests you personally.

That kind of inability to improve is really very rare. That kind of consistency is miraculous, in a way.

When someone else's safety and acceptance in society is on the line, your personal discomfort comes in a very distant second.

I like imagining that he punished his body for me, torturing it into such spectacular shape, hoping that one day I'd be able to appreciate his efforts.

There is nothing like an insane asylum for gently incubating death.

I believe in two concepts: Everything in moderation and break a sweat every day.

I come from a wonderful family. My mother was a pianist and my father was a salesman. They were very middle-class, very middle-Western.

The truth is you don't like the theater except the times when you're in a room by yourself putting the play on paper.

If there is any truth to the old proverb that "one who is his own lawyer has a fool for a client," the Court now bestows a constitutional right on one to make a fool of himself.

. . . well publicized facts are always the bane to the mind controllers.

What would our lives be like if we could all be happy no matter what?

Oh! faint delicious spring-time violet, Thine odor like a key, Turns noiselessly in memory's wards to let A thought of sorrow free.