We all matter - maybe less then a lot but always more than none.

Some tourists think Amsterdam is a city of sin, but in truth it is a city of freedom. And in freedom, most people find sin.

Amsterdam is like the rings of a tree: It gets older as you get closer to the center.

I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater.

...And in freedom, most people find sin.

So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.

A taste so profound and complex that it can't even be compared to other tastes, only to emotions. Cheesy waffles, I was thinking, tastes like love without the fear of love's dissolution.

My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.

The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.

All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm.

I would always love Alaska Young, my crooked neighbor, with all my crooked heart.

Stay hungry on the path you trod to overcome all odds though fate & the gods seem to pepper your plate with a barrage of sabotage.

Henry Luce to his Time magazine writers: "Tell the history of our time through the people who make it.

The mind speaks, though it does not have lips.The heart moves, though it does not have feet.The soul rises, though it does not have wings.

Abigail Adams is willing to risk her son's exposure to danger in Europe so that he can be at his fathers side, at an age where he can "most benefit from his father's example and precepts.

I like form and shape and strength in pictures.

I think of success as reaching beyond ourselves and helping other people in specific ways.

If you wish the world to become loving and compassionate, become loving and compassionate yourself.

Indolent people, whatever taste they may have for society, seek eagerly for pleasure, and find nothing. They have an empty head and seared hearts.

Your heart, Mary Karr, he'd say. His pen touched my sternum, and it felt for all the world like the point of a dull spear as he said, Your heart knows what your head don't. Or won't.

There's something about a blank page that makes me tingle.