Perhaps this very instant is your time.

The intellectual is a middle-class product; if he is not born into the class he must soon insert himself into it, in order to exist. He is the fine nervous flower of the bourgeoisie.

I hope that one or two immortal lyrics will come out of all this tumbling around.

The Initial Mystery that attends any journey is: how did the traveler reach his starting point in the first place?

I cannot believe that the inscrutable universe turns on an axis of suffering; surely the strange beauty of the world must somewhere rest on pure joy!

... politics are nothing but sand and gravel: it is art and life that feed us until we die. Everything else is ambition, hysteria or hatred.

Stupidity always accompanies evil. Or evil, stupidity.

...in a time lacking in truth and certainty and filled with anguish and despair, no woman should be shamefaced in attempting to give back to the world, through her work, a portion of its lost heart.

Your work is carved out of agony as a statue is carved out of marble.

I have lost faith in universal panaceas - work is the one thing in which I really believe.

Poetry is often generations in advance of the thought of its time.

They who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor S

There is so much we just can't see or know right now, including precisely how our actions will ripple out.

Prudence is the footprint of Wisdom.

Skills are called hidden treasure as they save like a mother in a foreign country.

Today I don't want to live for, I want to live.

I hope to make movies that are so small they don't need to make anything to be profitable.

It makes you famous, you get money from it, you go on and do the best you can, but it really is dreadful that people don't know your name.

Fall in love in such a way that it frees you from any connecting.

Me and Charles Manson like the same ice cream.