I just laid around in my bed, looking at the ceiling, and i smiled because it was a nice kind of quiet.

Downtown. Lights on buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

She wasn't bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.

There's nothing like deep breaths after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons.

Old pictures look very rugged and young, and the people in the photographs always seem a lot happier than you are.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

I really think that everyone should have watercolors, magnetic poetry, and a harmonica.

Maybe these are my glory days, and I'm not ever realizing it because they involve a ball.

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

please believe that things are good with me, and even when they're not, they will be soon enough. And i will always believe the same about you.

And I guess I realized at that moment that I really did love her. Because there was nothing to gain, and that didn't matter.

Upstairs on a bus! It’s Unbelievable

Government! Three fourths parasitic and the other fourth Stupid fumbling.

Intellectually and compassionately explaining the reason freedom works is required for credibility.

The aesthetic dimension of the ideal state comes out in the idea of harmony, which is the classical idea of beauty as "concinnitas" or "unity-in-variety".

I can have different opinions with anybody. I can still be a friend with that person.

We want more knowledge about our animals and less sentiment. Far more cruelty is caused in this country by lack of knowledge than by lack of heart.

I believe when you bring, say, a plant into a room, everything in that room changes in relation to it. This tension - tension is the only word for it - can be painted.

Progress is a farce because man's head and hand have created wonders that stun the imagination, but his heart does not keep step and his morals undo all that his mind has wrought.

As the art of reading (after a certain stage in one's education) isthe art of skipping, so the art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook.

I believe that there is an urgent need to restructure the discussion of war to include the impact it has on women.