It’s a very new, not to mention vulgar, idea that the spectator’s experience should be identical to, or even have anything to do with, the artist’s.

The only important elements in any society are the artistic and the criminal, because they alone, by questioning the society’s values, can force it to change.

The problem isn't to learn to love humanity, but to learn to love those members of it who happen to be at hand.

Babes, I am so bored here that I don't think, since I've come, I've ever been more than three minutes away from some really astonishing act of violence.

The truth is always multiplex.

Apocalypse has come and gone. We're just grubbing in the ashes.

Ambition like a liquid ruby stains.

The pleasures of love are really quite wonderful--though I suspect they are rather a luxury and require a certain level of socioeconomic stability to be anything other than a mode of suffering.

Don't go chattering to the stars if you're going to do it with your eyes closed.

It is easier to argue that something nobody believes in actually exists than it is to argue that something everybody believes in is unreal.

It's only ... when we're stripped of purpose that we know who we are.

I can hear the songs of your eyes, I can feel the warmth of your glowing cheek, and I can get lost in the smile of your soul.

The man who is not ‘sincere’ to others is not ‘sincere’ to his own self!

Anyone who engages in the practice of psychotherapy confronts every day the devastation wrought by the teachings of religion.

Well, if a Little Fuzzy finds a door open, I’d like to know why he shouldn’t come in and look around.

Even for the dead I will not bind my soul to grief, death cannot long divide; for is it not as if the rose that climbed my garden wall had bloomed the other side?

When a king begins to act like a king, it is not long before someone else is king! Serving is a way we can place value on one another. A wise man is a server.

The answers to how to live sustainably on our planet are all around us.

Great loves were almost always great tragedies. Perhaps it was because love was never truly great until the element of sacrifice entered into it.

History may be servitude. History may be freedom. See, now they vanish. The faces and places, with the self which, as it could, loved them, to become renewed, transfigured, in another pattern.