In the moment when he died at my hand he had his own heart's desire—not the actual future, but a hope for the best possible future, one that he could not himself imagine.

It is like reading two books, one with each eye, and understanding them both.

Be the time he finds his way out of the chamber and the planetarium, he has become me.

I have already lost the knowledge of the word whose sound has the shape of a soul. But perhaps it's not too late. Come with me. Hurry now. We still have a chance to be young.

Storytelling--that's not the future. The future, I'm afraid, is flashes and impulses. It's mode up of moments and fragments, and stories won't survive.

And just as he said of me, the thing that his heart desired was not the thing that he professed to want.

Think of it. Going to sleep and waking up later in a science fiction future. It'll be fantastic. The shock and the wonder of it.

As an act of goodwill you must sacrifice all the futures you might have for the one that he designs for you.

I truly do not know, and that unnameable feeling that comes with not knowing: it must be worse than grief. It must.

Love, no matter how high or low its form, must be requited, or the lover suffers.

That friend of hers has got to go, though. You're lucky you got stuck with that Dexter guy instead of

Help others without any reason and give without the expectation of receiving anything in return.

Life is filled with rhythms-day and night, hot and cold, summer and winter, spring and fall, cloudy and clear. Likewise in a relationship, men and women have their own rhythms and cycles.

He only is exempt from failures who makes no effort.

I bless God for this retirement: I never was more thankful for any thing than I have been of late for the necessity I am under of self-denial in many respects.

It is pleasing to be pointed at with the finger and to have it said, "There goes the man." [Lat., At pulchrum est digito monstrari et dicier his est.]

At times the mirror increases a thing’s value, at times denies it.

Where youth and diffidence are united, it requires uncommon steadiness of reason to resist the attraction of being called the most charming girl in the world.

I mean they're making remakes of my films and I'm not even dead yet! Why would you want to make a remake?

I understand the seriousness of concussions.

This mangled, smutted semi-world hacked out Of dirt . . . It is not possible for the moon To blot this with its dove-winged blendings.