[O]ften art has judged the judges, pleaded revenge to the innocent and shown to the future what the past suffered, so that it has never been forgotten. . . .

The past grows gradually around one, like a placenta for dying.

We never look at just one thing; we are always looking at the relation between things and ourselves.

That we find a crystal or a poppy beautiful means that we are less alone, that we are more deeply inserted into existence than the course of a single life would lead us to believe.

We only see what we look at. To look is an act of choice.

The poverty of our century is unlike that of any other. It is not, as poverty was before, the result of natural scarcity, but of a set of priorities imposed upon the rest of the world by the rich.

To be desired is perhaps the closest anybody in this life can reach to feeling immortal.

Paris, I believe, is a man in his twenties in love with an older woman.

Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at.

The past is the one thing we are not prisoners of. We can do with the past exactly what we wish. What we can't do is to change its consequences.

The human imagination... has great difficulty in living strictly within the confines of a materialist practice or philosophy. It dreams, like a dog in its basket, of hares in the open.

Love can only be true and free when you are fully healed from painful past and any form of brokenness.

Is the any model like morality?

True realism, materialist realism lies in the search for the expression of forms faithful to their content. But there is no content detached from human interest.

When you speak to a man, look on his eyes; when he speaks to you, look on his mouth.

Anybody over 40 is an older person. You better give them some respect.

Great patience is called for on the hard path that I have entered on.

Although your mind works, your heart is darkened with depravity; and without a pure heart there can be no complete and true consciousness

Irresolution on the schemes of life which offer themselves to our choice, and inconstancy in pursuing them, are the greatest causes of all our unhappiness.

On Saturdays I worked all day in Hunter Gaunt's drugstore in Winchester, and then at night, my mother drove me to Front Royal, where I sang pop tunes.

But I'll be fine. I'll be with Tod. He's a good guy, you know." He just hides it under all the sarcasm and curls.