Metal rusts, music lasts forever.

When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.

Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts.

It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story.

Only priests and fools are fearless and I've never been on the best of terms with God.

Using words to talk of words is like using a pencil to draw a picture of itself, on itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating ... but there are other ways to understanding.

She taught me I should never do anything in private I did not want talked about in public, and cautioned me not to talk in my sleep.

Fear tends to come from ignorance. Once I knew what the problem was, it was just a problem, nothing to fear.

No hard feelings about that time in the Crucible when you mixed my salts and I was nearly blind for a day. No. No, really, drink up!

He had a bright, reckless tenor that was always wandering off, looking for notes in the wrong places.

I only know one story. But oftentimes small pieces seem to be stories themselves.

Whatever you lay your hands on, self-esteem is visible.

We need something that encourages us to work, we need an intimate aid. This is only possible through meditation.

Every person who denies the truth is a coward who doesn't want to admit the truth

I'm so depressed. Christmas is the worst of all. Holidays are terrible, worse than Sundays. I get melancholia.

The blessing always comes back to the door of the author.

Always examine the dice.

Know what your customers want most and what your company does best. Focus on where those two meet.

I saw that worrying had come to nothing and gave it up. And took my old body and went out into the morning, and sang.

I'll do my dreaming with my eyes wide open, and I'll do my looking back with my eyes closed.

Tolerance to my mind has been greatly overrated . . . . I take as much pleasure in detesting the good brothers and sisters of the [Anti-Saloon] League as they have in hating me.