There is a ghost here. A lonely, heartbroken spirit. The ghost of everything that could've been and never was.

Because beautiful things never last. Not roses nor snow… And not fireworks, either

Meet me where the sky touches the sea. Wait for me where the world begins.

Why is it that weeks and months and years go by so quickly, all in a blur, but moments last forever?

I know it is a bad thing to break a promise, but I think now that it is a worse thing to let a promise break you.

Yeah. Sure. My brother's dead. My mother's insame. Hey, let's have a crepe.

Most of the mess that is called history comes about because kings and presidents cannot be satisfied with a nice chicken and a good loaf of bread.

For mad I may be, but I will never be convenient.

History is a Rorschach test, people. What you see when you look at it tells you as much about yourself as it does about the past.

Together in our house, in the firelight, we are the world made small.

We're not punished for our sins, lad. We're punished by them.

I know of no higher fortitude than stubborness in the face of overwhelming odds.

To photograph truthfully and effectively is to see beneath the surfaces.

Rome, believe me, my friend, is like its own Monte Testaceo, Merelya marvellous mass of broken and castaway wine-pots.

Figuring the average poet starts at 16, I am 23.

Once women begin to question the inevitability of their subordination and to reject the conventions formerly associated with it, they can no longer retreat to the safety of those conventions.

And for mathematical science, he that doubts their certainty hath need of a dose of hellebore.

I can't really explain the feeling of acting. It makes you the most insecure you can possibly be.

I mean look at Antichrist. He's not making films to be liked by everyone, so why is this so surprising coming from Lars von Trier?

Poetry is the breath of beauty.

Our contempt for others proves nothing but the illiberality and narrowness of our own views.