I would like to say how much I resent people who say of the Islamic Republic that this is our culture - as if women like to be stoned to death, or as if they like to be married at the age of nine.

Every great work of art ... is a celebration, an act of insubordination against the betrayals, horrors and infidelities of life.

I see people who talk about America, and then undermine it by not paying attention to its soul, to its poetry. I see polarization, reductionism and superficiality.

Once we know of atrocities we cannot remain silent, and knowledge inevitably leads to an urge to protect the innocent.

That, of course, is what great works of imagination do for us: They make us a little restless, destabilize us, question our preconceived notions and formulas.

I no longer believe that we can keep silent. We never really do, mind you. In one way or another we articulate what has happened to us through the kind of people we become.

You need imagination in order to imagine a future that doesn't exist.

It is amazing how, when all possibilities seem to be taken away from you, the minutest opening can become a great freedom.

The negative side of the American Dream comes when people pursue success at any cost, which in turn destroys the vision and the dream.

I eat my heart out alone.

I am suddenly left alone again on the sunny path, with a memory of the rain.

You're not lost, Kaylee. You can't ever be lost, because I'll always know where you are. And if I'm not there with you, I'm on my way, and nothing standing between us will be standing for very long.

It is important to be considerate of the future, but when we invest all of our present in our future hopes, we are placing a lot of value on what is inevitably in doubt.

And... a bed. A bed and a blanket to cover them, a blanket that was theirs together.

Fiddling knobs, touching keys, having fun with a full grown man.

War is terrorism, magnified a hundred times.

The successful competitor, having been urged to compete, must not be turned upon when he wins.

What is beautiful? Whatever is perceived joyfully is beautiful. Bliss is the essence of beauty.

I just drove past Brad Paisley jogging down the side of the road. I rolled down the window and screamed RUN FORREST RUN. I live for….. little moments…..like that.

Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon.