I cannot breathe, or see, nor swim, My darkness is composed of him.

Without ethics, science would be cruelty.

You are my star and you have made me see, ” he tells her, “and I am the air beneath your wings, never rending, never ending.

She has built her whole life on the foundation of beauty: each chiseled plane, each sloping dimple, each soft curve as crucial as keystones in the cathedral of her body.

What happened out there?”“I almost got quarking toasted by a dragon.”“A dragon, ” he repeats, scandalized. “Are you mad? Or have you been skulking around the bars of Barbary XIII?

If one has never known freedom, it is easy to be blind to the gridirons composing one's cell.

If politics were a musical, it would be "Promises, Promises".

Having a purpose is the little secret of the nonpretties. Something to do always beats something to look at.

The goal is not to get into a relationship; the goal is to be in a relationship.

The clock always ticks. There are times you don't hear it, and there are times that you do.

The brain and its satellite glands have now been probed to the point where no particular site remains that can reasonably be supposed to harbour a nonphysical mind.

Those who don't remember the past are condemned to repeat the eleventh grade.

I want no part of making any contribution whatsoever to the despair which eventually follows downbeat thinking.

I'm not a worrier. I like sleeping.

I recommend sports, I don't recommend gambling.

The past is interesting to me because it's been dumbed down or flattened out, or academically nitpicked so you can't get any life out of it, you just get data.