It is early, early morning. It's that time when it's still dark but you know the day is coming. Blue is bleeding through black. Stars are dying.

Not a beauty queen. Not one of those. You know the ones. She was real.

My own eyes try to sleep, but they don't. They stay wide awake as time snarls forward and silence drops down, like measured thought.

Because you don't learn anything unless you can find the patience to read. TV takes that away from you. It robs you from your mind.

The pages and the words are my world, spread out before your eyes and for your hand to touch. Vaguely, I can see you face looking down into me, as I look back. Do you see my eyes?

A couple of them were school beauty-queen pretty while a few were that more real-looking type. A realer kind of pretty.

All four of us were young and undaunted and our smiles were so strong that it made me smile even then on the couch, with a kind of loss.

... tried praying for him ...but I couldn't. I just couldn't. Don't ask me why. I hoped that he was okay, but I couldn't summon the strength to pray for it.

The city was dark except for the building lights that seemed to appear like sores - like bandaids had been ripped off to expose the city's skin.

I wanted nothing for free.Nothing came for free at our place anyway.

One good punch from Rube on me would send the sky into my head and the clouds into my lungs. I just always tried to stay up.

Everything she does comes from within, from some dark impulse. I guess that’s what makes her so thrilling to watch. So dangerous. Even perfect at times. But also so damned destructive.

I saw that all beings are fated to happiness: action is not life, but a way of wasting some force, an enervation. Morality is the weakness of the brain.

Today was about execution, period. Every single player, all of us in the dressing room right now, we’re embarrassed because that’s not the way we want to play soccer.

So the idea of being able to shop cross-category to buy the beach bag, the summer lip gloss, and the pillows for your pool house makes it into very focused, easy life.

A poem may be an instance of morality, of social conditions, of psychological history; it may instance all its qualities, but never one of them alone, nor any two or three; never less than all.

Aren't they all heroes-our cats who train us, keep us and put up with us? For these accomplishments alone, they deserve medals.

I think literacy is everything.

I dream of a Digital India where access to Information knows no barriers.

I was always a character actor. I just looked like Little Red Riding Hood.

Halloween is a liberal holiday because we're teaching our children to beg for something for free. … We're teaching kids to knock on other people's doors and ask for a handout.