Fanaticism comes from any form of chosen blindness accompanying the pursuit of a single dogma.

The past grows gradually around one, like a placenta for dying.

We never look at just one thing; we are always looking at the relation between things and ourselves.

That we find a crystal or a poppy beautiful means that we are less alone, that we are more deeply inserted into existence than the course of a single life would lead us to believe.

We only see what we look at. To look is an act of choice.

The poverty of our century is unlike that of any other. It is not, as poverty was before, the result of natural scarcity, but of a set of priorities imposed upon the rest of the world by the rich.

To be desired is perhaps the closest anybody in this life can reach to feeling immortal.

Paris, I believe, is a man in his twenties in love with an older woman.

Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at.

The past is the one thing we are not prisoners of. We can do with the past exactly what we wish. What we can't do is to change its consequences.

The human imagination... has great difficulty in living strictly within the confines of a materialist practice or philosophy. It dreams, like a dog in its basket, of hares in the open.

Love will hurt. If it doesn't hurt you are not doing it right. To truly love someone you must open yourself up to the pain that would be losing them.

Just because you can make a choice, doesn’t mean you should. Some things are better left alone.

Advocating well with a personal story is not a call to simply “Insert Story Here.

Tenacity runs thick in the veins of a villain.

Once you do away with the idea of people as fixed, static entities, then you see that people can change, and there is hope.

I can't sleep without knowing there's hope. Half the night I waste in sighs. In a wakeful doze I sorrow. For the hands, for the lips... the eyes. For the meeting of tomorrow.

Official history is merely a veil to hide the truth of what really happened. When the veil is lifted, again and again we see that not only is the official version not true, it is often 100% wrong.

What I am seeking... is a motionless movement, something equivalent to what is called the eloquence of silence.

My mother was cancer. She slowly destroyed everything around her. She produced two killers; me and my brother Joe.

My secret is that I have never thought there is a secret to anything in life. Passion. Love. Drive. Work. Work. Work. Dull but true.