We all want to explain ourselves. Nobody wants to be forgotten.

Our generation has had no Great Depression, no Great War. Our war is spiritual. Our depression is our lives.

The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.

We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.

Worker bees can leave. Even drones can fly away. The Queen is their slave.

Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified?

You know, the condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip it on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night, then you throw it away.

If you love something set it free, but don't be surprised if it comes back with herpes.

Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known.

The trick to forgetting the big picture is to look at everything close-up.

It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.

I once broke up with a boy because he wrote me an awful poem.

Like the rest of the city, LAX is coming of age.

Neither woman nor man lives by work, or love, alone ... The human self defines itself and grows through love and work: All psychology before and after Freud boils down to that.

There's not much in the way of written-down arrangements - just things that Gerry and I have worked out, from playing spontaneously together and hanging on to whatever seems to fall in right.

If I have time to exercise, I do it, but I don't fixate on numbers like weight or waist size. Numbers don't work for me.

I've played lots of law enforcement agents, and I do have friends that are in the bureau, in the DEA, and who are detectives and captains.

I hate to play YouTube.

You don't have to be larger than life to be a hero, just larger than yourself.

Our march to freedom is irreversible. We must not allow fear to stand in our way.

Our cheer goes back to them, the valiant dead! Laurels and roses on their graves to-day, lilies and laurels over them we lay, and violets o'er each unforgotten head.