Mo Nighean donn, " he whispered, " mo chridhe. My brown lass, my heart."Come to me. Cover me. Shelter me. a bhean, heal me. Burn with me, as I burn for you.

I want to take ye to bed. In my bed. And I mean to spend the rest of the day thinking what to do wit ye once I got ye there. So wee Archie can just go and play at marbles with his bollucks, aye?

You're beautiful to me, Jamie, ” I said softly, at last. “So beautiful, you break my heart.

You must be careful not to deprive the poem of its wild origin.

Sometimes the good memories are just as painful as the bad ones.

Frankly, I believe that identity is what's inside us.

The way I read Billy Carter's testimony, he was a model citizen himself until the voters went and ruined his life by making his brother President.

Obviously, it wasn't meant for me to die of cancer at 40. Every day my life surprises me, just like my cancer diagnosis surprised me. But you roll with it. That's our job as humans.

The trouble with lies was that once started, the fiction had to be continued, and it was hard always to be remembering details that you had made up upon the spur of the moment.

I am a plain man, and I care and know comparatively little about rhetoric.

So you don't have time for concealer, you have time for powder for when you start crying later about how some boy doesn't like you.

In art, there are only two types of people: revolutionaries and plagiarists. And in the end, doesn't the revolutionary's work become official, once the State takes it over?

Blink and you miss a sprint. The 10,000 meters is lap after lap of waiting. Theatrically, the mile is just the right length: beginning, middle, end, a story unfolding.