Remember this: one can be a strict logician or grammarian and at the same time full of imagination and music.

Within you there is a stillness and sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself

I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.

If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us.

Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.

When you like someone, you like them in spite of their faults. When you love someone, you love them with their faults.

The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. The God's name is Abraxas.

I live in my dreams — that's what you sense. Other people live in dreams, but not in their own. That's the difference.

Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. One can find it, live it, be fortified by it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it.

I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me.

Whoever wants music instead of noise, joy instead of pleasure, soul instead of gold, creative work instead of business, passion instead of foolery, finds no home in this trivial world of ours.

Life always involves some logic in its manifestations, and logic, as a rule, excludes the versatility of life from its considerations.

My shadow serves as the friend I crave.

I don't want to waste anyone's time or money. I want to give people some truth and positive heart lift.

There is plenty of work for love to do.

It seems like Satan has thrown the DH into our game.

... he is rewarded with a form of eternal childhood, with the bounty and vigilance of the stars, the whole world was his inheritance and he shared it with everyone.

You do have the idea of being ‘just good friends?’” He gave her a sideways look. “For so high and honorable an estate,” Roshaun said, “ ‘just’ seems a poor modifier to choose.

I'm racist against non-black people.

I only need to know one thing. Am I going to need the flamethrower?

All your life you live so close to truth, it becomes a permanent blur in the corner of your eye, and when something nudges it into outline it is like being ambushed by a grotesque.