I'm probably the only person in the world that feels physical pain as a reaction to joy.

If I know that I can do something that makes me happy, why do I allow myself to get so depressed?

Knowledge is not always power.

You never know. Somebody can seem cool and then you look in their music library and there's Katy Perry.

I like lots of bands, and I LOVE fewer, but the list is still lengthy. I rarely pick a "favorite" because I think that's for laypeople who don't understand the infinite possibilities of music.

I dug her usage of "Spotify" as a verb.

I am angry. It is illegal for me to be angry. Remember: Don't get angry. It is illegal to be a black man and be angry. Right. Got it. I will remember this next time.

Honesty isn't easy. Or comfortable.

I'm attracted to difficulty, I think. I'm attracted to guys who have truckloads of baggage. With them, it will never, ever be simple. And then they do or say one little magical thing and they own me.

I'm awful at hiding it when I'm miserable. Sometimes I think if I were better at it maybe I'd be able to fool myself. Trick the misery right out of me.

The world can ask you to participate, but it's a day-today decision if you want to agree to that proposal.

Intelligence is the wife, imagination is the mistress, memory is the servant.

Emotions are reserved for juries and, in that case, a good lawyer can really lay them on when the time is right, better than the best Academy Award winning actor

Glib tongues frill up their hash of knowledgefor mankind in polished speechesthat are no more than vaporous windsrustling the fallen leaves in autumn.

What happens this weekend stays between us. We set the rules.

Old age is an island surrounded by death.

Investors repeatedly jump ship on a good strategy just because it hasn't worked so well lately, and, almost invariably, abandon it at precisely the wrong time.

[...]when two people have become present to each other, the waiting of one must be able to cross the narrow line between the living or dying of the other.

Back then, if you had a sore arm, the only people concerned were you and your wife. Now it's you, your wife, your agent, your investment counselor, your stockbroker, and your publisher.