Some days you exist like the last speaker of an extinct language. These are the silences that litter the heart.

Young people think they know it all, but a lot of old salts around know they don't.

Can you imagine a silence so desperate to be heard?

We will spend the rest of the day inventing a kind of love that no longer exists in the world, a kind of love no army can pillage at the outposts, no rumor could bring to its knees like a traitor.

Maybe I should just lie quietly inside you while our old selves slip in and out of the back rooms of the soul.

The artistic reward for refuting the received national tradition is liberation. The price is homelessness. Interior exile.

There can be no liberty without the law

A forest of these trees is a spectacle too much for one man to see.

The expansion is inevitable.

First comes the sweat. Then comes the beauty if you're very lucky and have said your prayers.

An oxymoron? What's that? A moron who studies at Oxford?

I think people think I'm a lot younger than I am because of how I look on screen.

Competence was attractive.

Thoughts and words form your mental image. And since we become what we picture be sure your thoughts and words express prosperity and blessing rather than poverty and defeat.

Civil war? What does that mean? Is there any foreign war? Isn't every war fought between men, between brothers?