That's the beauty and the terror of being human beings: We just have these symbolic languages, these dreams, and that's all it ever is.

Do not fall asleep in your enemy's dream.

A great artist transforms our world, removes scales from our eyes, plugs from our ears, gloves from our fingertips and teaches us to perceive reality differently.

As a writer, you don't know what the hell you're doing. You're just doing it. You hope it works out well.

I had a deep prejudice against the South. It's taken me many years to get over that, be more open and thoughtful.

Good writing is always about things that are important to you, things that are scary to you, things that eat you up.

One of the earliest lessons I learned as a child was that if you looked away from something, it might not be there when you looked back.

You have to be a minor superhero just to get to be a dignified man, and that's kind of exacerbated for men of color.

All Stories are True.

I believe - what did Faulkner say? "The past is not even past."

Books are an attempt to control something that's uncontrollable.

...the heart has no tears to give, --it drops only blood, bleeding itself away in silence.

Ask José Mourinho, he wouldn't know a thing about me, my sport - he knows football, and to get to high levels you have to be insane, nothing else means anything.

There is no risk factor at all, the odds don't matter at all, because the odds of Law of Attraction are 100%.

I mean by Society, the totality of concepts of all purely natural relations and institutions between man and man.

Our business is to stand strongly for principles, but never to attack persons, about whose lives we can know but little.

no more pep talks about believing in toads," Liza said. "Don't they turn into princeses when you kiss them?" Bonnie said. "Thats frogs," Liza Said. "Entirely different species.

The sick do not ask if the hand that smoothes their pillow is pure, nor the dying care if the lips that touch their brow have known the kiss of sin.

The hardest part of gaining any new idea is sweeping out the false idea occupying that niche.

The May-pole is up, Now give me the cup; I'll drink to the garlands around it; But first unto those Whose hands did compose The glory of flowers that crown'd it.