Treat everyone you meet like God in drag.

The spiritual journey is individual, highly personal. It can't be organized or regulated. It isn't true that everyone should follow one path. Listen to your own truth.

I would like my life to be a statement of love and compassion--and where it isn't, that's where my work lies.

If you think you’re enlightened go spend a week with your family.

The game is not about becoming somebody, it's about becoming nobody.

We are all affecting the world every moment, whether we mean to or not. Our actions and states of mind matter, because we are so deeply interconnected with one another.

The intellect is a beautiful servant but a terrible master. Intellect is the power tool of our separateness. The intuitive, compassionate heart is the doorway to our unity.

We're all just walking each other home.

As you dissolve into love, your ego fades. You’re not thinking about loving; you’re just being love, radiating like the sun.

I practice turning people into trees. Which means appreciating them just the way they are

If you want to cure the world, don't emanate fear - emanate love.

One can legitimately accentuate certain things, like a caricaturist.

Pride is pleasure arising from a man's thinking too highly of himself.

Sometimes I stress too much and don't have fun. If you're trying to be perfect, sometimes it backfires on you.

It is what it is. I can't change what's happened to me.

Wolf Hall attempts to duplicate not the historian's chronology but the way memory works: in leaps, loops, flashes.

During the war, in which several of our embedded correspondents were able to report from moving vehicles crossing the Iraqi desert, the use of technology made news gathering safer.

If the first of July it be rainy weather, 'Twill rain more or less for four weeks together.

A woman who doesn't care what men think of her - ah, this is dangerous. This is the worst conceivable insult to the male ego.

The root of creativity is found in the need to repair the good object destroyed during the depressive phase.

A question like “do you love me?” was an itch our doctors told us not to scratch.