I know how to make it a great musical. I've got to. It's like I've got to see it on stage.

My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives.

As long as the world is turning and spinning, we're gonna be dizzy and we're gonna make mistakes.

I've been accused of vulgarity. I say that's bullshit.

If you stand on a soapbox and trade rhetoric with a dictator you never win.

Hope for the Best. Expect the worst. Life is a play. We're unrehearsed.

Life literally abounds in comedy if you just look around you.

If presidents can't do it to their wives, they do it to their country.

Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.

Humor is just another defense against the universe.

I don't know what to say so I'll just say what's in my heart...badoom, badoom, badoom.

If you get to a point where something happens today to stress you out, take a breath & center your thoughts on peace. Ignored thoughts die.

I thought that when I spilled one secret, the rest would come tumbling after, but openness is a habit you form over time, and not a switch you flip whenever you want to, I'm finding.

I've always shied away from computers, the Internet and all that. I'm a bit more traditional, really - pick up a newspaper, pick up a phone.

Since thou are not sure of a minute, throw not away an hour.

And O there are days in this life, worth life and worth death. And O what a bright old song it is, that O 'tis love, 'tis love, 'tis love that makes the world go round!

My years as a mystic have made me question almost all my assumptions. They've made me a proud I-don't-know-it-all.

Strategy is, above all else, the search for above average returns.

I just get really defensive as soon as anyone comes near my personal life. I made a decision early on that it's strictly off-limits. No exceptions.

Assange is not a 'journalist' any more than the 'editor' of al-Qaeda's new English-language magazine 'Inspire' is a 'journalist.' He is an anti-American operative with blood on his hands.

Late one brilliant April afternoon Professor Lucius Wilson stood at the head of Chestnut Street, looking about him with the pleased air of a man of taste who does not very often get to Boston.