Perhaps somebody has alredy written it. But I want to write a story from the end till the very beginning.

Personally I know only one person who wrote about utopia. Afterwards he was executed. I suppose it's not my genre.

Constant love despite almost impossible anti-clamix towards this place of the rising sun...

I'll write while I'm breathing.

Do you know what is truly magnificent? One tear, which is falling down from an authentic sensitive person's eye. Down the cheek and adorns the floor.

In our century of progress and industrialization we still cannot avoid and prevent wars. I'd propose to have a separate planet where we'd insert fighting coutries to solve their business.

In our century of progress and industrialization we still cannot avoir and prevent wars. I'd propose to have a separate planet where we'd insert fighting coutries to solve their business.

Whatever you are, do not even assume that you will be surrounded and gnawed by luxurious worms of an exquisite breed.

The soul is awakened through service.

It's time to open the space frontier to citizen explorers.

When I was growing up, I went to an Irish-Christian missionary school.

I grew up in a haunted castle, boys. If you've never had a ghost try to push you down the stairs, you've never lived.

Brookfield High School. How may I direct your call? No, sir, this is not a waste- disposal unit, I'm afraid you have the wrong number.

Norman Rockwell, the Brueghel of the 20th century bourgeoisie, the Holbein of Jell-O ads and magazine covers; by common assent, the most American artist of all.

Abstract Expressionism was invented by New York drunks.

Escape plan #5: Open an alpaca ranch in Texas, one that requires all blond-haired, brown-eyed, brainy girls to wear sexy cowgirl outfits.

Men may have wars, but women have their period. Men go off and kill each other, but women say nasty things, which is even better.

It is not earthly riches which make us or our sons happy; for they must either be lost by us in our lifetime, or be possessed when we are dead, by whom we know not, or perhaps by whom we would not.