Nothing in the real world is as beautiful as the illusions of a person about to lose consciousness.

Unclose your mind. You are not a prisoner. You are a bird in flight, searching the skies for dreams.

I have a million things to talk to you about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.

No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself.

Say it before you run out of time. Say it before it's too late. Say what you're feeling. Waiting is a mistake.

I probably still haven’t completely adapted to the world. I don’t know, I feel like this isn’t the real world. The people, the scene: they just don’t seem real to me.

But if you knew you might not be able to see it again tomorrow, everything would suddenly become special and precious, wouldn’t it?

The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time.

When I first met you, I felt a kind of contradiction in you. You’re seeking something, but at the same time, you are running away for all you’re worth.

When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it -- to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once.

Let our road be long, let it be very long, let it be very very long and in fact let our road be infinite! Travel means flow, flow means life!

I brought seaweed snacks from home, ' chimed in another kid. "Seaweed got iron, right?"'I don't think the teachers meant that kind of iron, ' said Hui Ann.

I don't much like being directed. I enjoy being allowed to play.

To call yourself a socialist in 2015 is to be an idiot. Socialism fails. Everywhere.

The Olympics are every four years and I think every athlete who competes in the Olympics wants the gold medal, and I think that's what the World Cup is for a rugby player - it's the gold medal.

The world is made up, for the most part, of fools and knaves, both irreconcileable foes to truth.

I found that a lot of people ridiculed contemporary art. I decided I wanted to be involved in art everybody could understand.

Were there not these still mirrors to reflect the beauty of the heavens to us, it might be lost to eyes so seldom lifted upwards.

When I was editor of the Erotic Review I fielded endless phone calls from elderly readers who thought I might like to pop round in my spare time and thrash them

May the passion to be all that God wants you to be sweep across your soul like a gentle breeze.