In general confusion youth recognizes itself and rejoices.

A classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say.

Cities, like dreams, are made of desires and fears, even if the thread of their discourse is secret, their rules are absurd, their perspectives deceitful, and everything conceals something else.

A human being becomes human not through the casual convergence of certain biological conditions, but through an act of will and love on the part of other people.

I have tried to remove weight, sometimes from people, sometimes from heavenly bodies, sometimes from cities; above all I have tried to remove weight from the structure of stories and from language.

Traveling, you realize that differences are lost: each city takes to resembling all cities, places exchange their form, order, distances, a shapeless dust cloud invades the continents.

The universe is the mirror in which we can contemplate only what we have learned to know in ourselves

It is not the voice that commands the story: it is the ear.

The ideal place for me is the one in which it is most natural to live as a foreigner.

Who are we, who is each one of us, if not a combinatoria of experiences, information, books we have read, things imagined?

I will start out this evening with an assertion: fantasy is a place where it rains.

I must work harder to achieve my goal of not seeking approval from those whose approval I'm not even sure is important to me.

Where are you from? New York?""Weird you picked up on that, " she said, "I've been gone from there for so long."Like a couple of decades could dilute that accent.

Why am I the only one who thinks she’s messing with us? - Egg

I have learned that champions aren't just born champions can be made when they embrace and commit to life-changing positive habits.

Bollywood stars are versatile; they not only act, but each one has the dance skills of John Travolta in 'Saturday Night Fever.'

By painting colors and lines and forms seen in quickened mood I was seeking to make this mood vibrate as a phonograph does. This was the origin of the paintings in The Frieze of Life.

There was a golden retriever who saved countless lives on September 11 by going back in to find people. His companion was in a wheelchair. He got him out and kept going back in to save others.

I don't think of my music as being about something.

He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts.