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

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.

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.

Do you know the legend about cicadas? They say they are the souls of poets who cannot keep quiet because, when they were alive, they never wrote the poems they wanted to.

Ignorance is in each cell of our body and our consciousness. It's like a drop of ink diffused in a glass of water.

Grief embraced him and welcomed him back, showering tears upon his arrival.

If you find you are traveling on wrong road, turn to the right direction.

Forgiving those who hurt us is the key to personal peace.

To make the reader afraid, I had to be afraid.

They should make new ways to better design buildings and books. The computer was the end of Swiss typography!

People are approaching electronic levels in music; although not all of it happens to tickle my fancy

Theory is splendid but until put into practice, it is valueless.

Right," said Fat Charlie conversationally. "You realize, of course, that this means war." It was the traditional war cry of a rabbit when pushed too far.

People want to build musicians into mythical beings.