It's very weird to succeed at thirty-nine years old and realize that in the midst of your failure, you were slowly building the life that you wanted anyway.

How to Commit the Perfect Murder" was an old game in heaven. I always chose the icicle: the weapon melts away.

You save yourself or you remain unsaved.

I stared at her black hair. It was shiny like the promises in magazines.

Sometimes the dreams that come true are the dreams you never even knew you had.

Your first kiss is destiny knocking.

You could not be filled with hate and be beautiful. Like any other girl, I wanted to be beautiful. But I was filled with hate.

I like gardening - it's a place where I find myself when I need to lose myself.

I would like to tell you that I am, and you will one day be, forever safe.

She liked to imagine that when she passed the world looked after her, but she also knew how anonymous she was.

Heaven is comfort, but it's still not living.

My brain tells me it will be better to just let him go.My heart... not so much.

What is the matter with universities is that the students are school children, whereas it is of the very essence of university education that they should be adults.

Looking at these photographs, I know that I will never understand the world I live in or fully know the places I've been. I've learned for sure only what I don't know - and how much I have to learn.

The most perfect ape cannot draw an ape; only man can do that; but, likewise, only man regards the ability to do this as a sign of superiority.

Dance is your pulse, your heartbeat, your breathing. It's the rhythym of your life.

That's the sound we developed, and that's how we played. It took us a while, but we found it.

Do your homework, study the craft, believe in yourself, and out-work everyone.

Just like in medicine, when the normal medicine no longer works, one resorts to surgery. And the revolutions is like the surgery: Its painful, and its the last resort for nations.

The closer one gets to elections or wars, the further one gets from the truth.

No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, But by reflection, by some other things.