I could not escape a feeling that this was my own funeral, and you do not cry in that case.

I began to know that each morning reasserted the problems of night before, that sleep suspended all but changed nothing, that you couldn’t make yourself over between dawn and dusk.

There was no harm in taking aim, even if the target was a dream.

I felt that I was not, never had been and never would be a living part of this overpoweringly solid and deeply meaningful world around me.

It seemed clear that wars were not made by generations and their special stupidities, but that wars were made instead by something ignorant in the human heart

What I mean is, I love winter, and when you really love something, then it loves you back, in whatever way it has to love.

As I said, this was my sarcastic summer. It was only long after that I recognized sarcasm as the protest of people who are weak.

But something held me back. Perhaps I was stopped by that level of feeling, deeper than thought, which contains the truth.

Sarcasm is the protest of the weak.

Peace is indivisible, and the surrounding world confusion found no reflection inside me.

We are all born equally far from the sun.

The more confident and appreciative of who you are, the less hold depression has over you.

Much as I admired the elegance of physical theories, which at that time geology wholly lacked, I preferred a life in the woods to one in the laboratory.

Beware the short terminal guy with nothing to lose.

What you experience as "reality," including your physical body and aging, is shaped by your habits of perception.

It will feel boring when you're bingeing.

This country cannot afford to be materially rich and spiritually poor.

Always be polite to a dragon. It's harder than it sounds. Dragon etiquette is incredibly complicated, and if you make a mistake, the dragon eats you.

The only self-consciousness in the film [Dream of Life] is anyone's natural shyness.

Sleep is a death, O make me try By sleeping, what it is to die, And as gently lay my head On my grave, as now my bed.

An atom must be at least as complex as a grand piano.