The images of his infinite pasts and infinite futures washed over him as he waited, paralyzed, in the present.

If the thrill of hunting were in the hunt, or even in the marksmanship, a camera would do just as well.

You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.

Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.

The sky slowly pulled up its blue dress to reveal night.

The more you love someone, he came to think, the harder it is to tell them. It surprised him that strangers didn't stop each other on the street to say I love you.

His voice was handsome and broken, like a cobblestone street.

To feel alone is to be alone.

Words are capable of making experience more vivid, and also of organizing it. They can scare us, and they can comfort us.

When we eat factory-farmed meat we live, literally, on tortured flesh. Increasingly, that tortured flesh is becoming our own.

It has shown me that everything is illuminated in the light of the past. It is always along the side of us...on the inside, looking out.

The naively cynical measure a piece of legislation, a victory, a milestone not against the past or the limits of the possible, but against their ideas of perfection...

So... are you also chasing butterflies?

A story never ends. The narrator is usually provided with a nice, artistic spot for his voice to stop, but that's about all.

Then suddenly something just kicked me. I kind of woke up and realised that I was in a different atmosphere than you normally are. My immediate reaction was to back off, slow down.

There is no such thing as "best" in the world of individuals.

Every scene is a love scene. The actor should ask the question: 'Where is the love?'

Not using fossil fuels is tantamount to not using energy. It is economic suicide and eco-manslaughter.

Rehearsing a play is making the word flesh. Publishing a play is reversing the process.

Kamby Bolongo Mean River is an original and fearless fiction. It bears genetic traces of Beckett and Stein, but Robert Lopez's powerful cadences and bleak, joyful wit are all his own.

The one who has not conquered the passions cannot enter the chaste and pure region of the heart.