It's kind of strange-- in fiction you get to tell lies and are applauded for it.

And in that moment, everything I knew to be true about myself up until then was gone. I was acting like another woman, yet I was more myself than ever before.

The human heart has a way of making itself large again even after it's been broken into a million pieces.

Life is never easy for those who dream.

Analysis destroys wholes. Some things, magic things, are meant to stay whole. If you look at their pieces, they go away.

In a universe of ambiguity, this kind of certainty comes only once, and never again, no matter how many lifetimes you live.

There are songs that come free from the blue-eyed grass, from the dust of a thousand country roads. This is one of them.

I sometimes have the feeling you've been here a long time, more than one lifetime, and that you've dwelt in private places none of the rest of us has even dreamed about.

We have both lost ourselves and created something else, something that exists only as an interlacing of the two of us.

The old dreams were good dreams; they didn't work out but I'm glad I had them.

And I remember most of what I know that is good and true and lasting has come not from scholars but from minstrels and gypsies.

Like it or not, we are all in business and the products we are selling is our unique selves.

The catacombs where ghostly bodies lie. In the silence you hear the screams go by.

I think once I fail enough as a dad, I'll be looking for help wherever I can get it. I just need enough time to screw things up and then I'll start looking to TV dads for advice.

Research does not support any part of Race to the Top

It follows then as certain as that night succeeds the day, that without a decisive naval force we can do nothing definitive, and with it, everything honorable and glorious.

Nicotine and alcohol embraced in my system like long-parted siblings, grateful to me for reuniting them.

It is hard to go on living without some hope of encountering the extraordinary.

I really am a firm believer that if you're going to do something musically, you really need to know what that music would have sounded like, what those instruments would have been.

Regrets about the journey, maybe, but not the destination.

Men lie, and they lie to theirselves worst of all.