Had you but seen it, I promise you, your high-minded principles would have melted like candle wax. Never would you have wished such beauty away.

Because beautiful things never last. Not roses nor snow… And not fireworks, either

Most of the mess that is called history comes about because kings and presidents cannot be satisfied with a nice chicken and a good loaf of bread.

For mad I may be, but I will never be convenient.

History is a Rorschach test, people. What you see when you look at it tells you as much about yourself as it does about the past.

Together in our house, in the firelight, we are the world made small.

Hope is the crystal meth of emotions. It hooks you fast and kills you hard.

The greenest of pastures are right here on earth.

He's wearing boots, a kilt, and a long-sleeve tee. No coat, even though it's December. Beautiful people don't need coats. They've got their auras to keep them warm.

I'm wishing he could see that music lives. Forever. That it's stronger than death. Stronger than time. And that its strength holds you together when nothing else can.

When you can write music that endures, bravo. Until then, keep quiet and study the work of those who can.

Every artist has thousands of bad drawings in them and the only way to get rid of them is to draw them out.

Our life together's like a tale with a happy end, no matter what turns it took in the way.

I desire therefore I exist.

People you are emotionally open to can drain your power level or raise it tremendously, depending on what their intentions are.

Spending our tax dollars on actually preventing crimes, instead of pursuing death sentences after they've already been committed, will assure us we will have fewer victims.

Teaching is a calling too. And I've always thought that teachers in their way are holy - angels leading their flocks out of the darkness.

A crisis unmasks everyone.

If I can assign names as well as pictures to objects, the right assignment of them we may call truth, and the wrong assignment of them falsehood.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us... and we drown.

I got tired of my taxes paying for exciting little wars around the world. Then I discovered that when I died, my wife would probably have to sell our house to pay for the taxes in America.