There are two kinds of suffering in this life. That which pursues us and that which we doggedly pursue.

Sunsets, like childhood, are viewed with wonder not just because they are beautiful but because they are fleeting.

I have Tourettes syndrome.

The most difficult of decisions are often not the ones in which we cannot determine the correct course; rather the ones in which we are certain of the path but fear the journey.

Forgiveness does not require us to close our eyes but rather to truly open them.

So often the pain of our life is no more than a reminder to take our hand off the stove.

There are none so impoverished as those who do not acknowledge the abundance of their lives

such fickle days of love when pain and ecstasy share the same hour

The greatest shackles we bear in thislife are those forged by our own fears

Forgiveness is the key to the heart's shackles.

To choose the path is to choose the destination, but sometimes it seems that the path is under our feet even before we know we're walking.

So we went to bed, assaulted by sleep that fumed at us from medicine glasses, or was wielded from small sweet-coated tablets -- dainty bricks of dream wrapped in the silk stockings of oblivion.

Nature is made of vibrations of Love.

If you were music, I would listen to you ceaselessly, and my low spirits would brighten up.

If you owe the bank $100 that's your problem. If you owe the bank $100 million, that's the bank's problem.

Theater, art, literature, cinema, press, posters, and window displays must be cleansed of all manifestations of our rotting world and placed in the service of a moral, political, and cultural idea.

By participating in the society we live in, we understand our conditions and the way we relate to the world.

As eight years before, he was leaving ... to rewrite his destiny in orderly fashion.

There is no quality I would rather have, and be thought to have, than gratitude. For it is not only the greatest virtue, but is the mother of all the rest.

Pop Art looks out into the world. It doesnt look like a painting of something, it looks like the thing itself.

This, then, is the ultimate paradox of thought: to want to discover something that thought itself cannot think.