So much easier to give. I detest asking.

Does childhood really happen? Do we imagine it? Everyone remembers something else....

She was kahuna, creating more life around her than was actually there, heightening the momentousness of each living thing by simply gazing upon it.

They would no longer be time-bound, that they were free to live in the future, the past, in fantasy. She had been a woman preparing to live, not living.

You think knowing things will solve your private little griefs?

Everything breaks down but desire. And because we are old, doctors try to shame that out of us. Young punks! Lose one's youth, and doctors take it as axiomatic that you've lost your mind, your balls.

We love that which we corrupt.

When you hate something for twenty years, you get to know it well.

Got something to do with guilt, ' Toro said. 'Her mother, neh?' 'Guilt. Longing. Got something to do with all of us.

Beware of logic.

Common sense. Mothers are the last riddle, the worst horror, the only consolation.

What I was trying to say, maybe, is that I don't know what it is I'm capable of transforming into.

I'm not a social singer. But if one can take a social message via the romantic, that's a strong statement.

And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two.

I write for myself, and I write for my friends and people who I have a connection with. I try to give some dignity to peoples' lifestyles that tend to be ignored.

We all have our demons, even if we say we don't.

It is known that the taste--whatever it is--is improved exactly as we improve our judgment, by extending our knowledge, by a steady attention to our object, and by frequent exercise.

Another air traffic controller fell asleep on the job, but he had a good excuse. He was watching President Obama’s deficit speech.

Don't hate what you don't understand!

A person who thinks only about building walls, wherever they may be, and not building bridges, is not Christian. This is not in the Gospel.

for my grief's so great That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. (Constance, from King John, Act III, scene 1)