I believe the novella is the perfect form of prose fiction.

...falling in love could be achieved in a single word—a glance.

come back, come back to me

Imagining what it is like to be someone other than yourself is at the core of our humanity. It is the essence of compassion, and it is the beginning of morality.

I've never had a moment's doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life.

A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.

True intelligence requires fabulous imagination.

When its gone, you'll know what a gift love was. you'll suffer like this. So go back and fight to keep it.

I believe the novella is the perfect form of prose fiction. It is the beautiful daughter of a rambling, bloated ill-shaven giant (but a giant who's a genius on his best days).

I'm holding back, delaying the information. I'm lingering in the prior moment because it was a time when other outcomes were still possible.

Observing human variety can give pleasure, but so too can human sameness.

Art invariably grows out of a period when, in general, the artist admires his own nation and wants to win its approval.

You don't have to be in hurry in life. Everything happens in sacred-time.

They say it was Cesc Fabregas who threw the pizza at me but, to this day, I have no idea who the culprit was.

I have not been short of invitations to other clubs and have been received more warmly by Everton than I have by Liverpool.

I never read the tabloids.

The facts, gentlemen, and nothing but the facts, for careful eyes are narrowly watching.

I aim to remind the warrior within us all to navigate through the unknown that we may meet the morning, improved and unenslaved.

I came to town thinking that everybody had the same idea of what country music was that I did.

In spite of muzzling the press, imprisoning thousands, and engaging in torture, kidnapping and murder, the Socialist government was still vulnerable to the accusation of being "soft on Basques.

In shallow men the fish of little thoughts cause much commotion. In oceanic minds the whales of inspiration make hardly a ruffle.