We're each other's questions, aren't we? The question that never gets an answer.

Because sometimes there are problems bigger than this week’s end of the world and sometimes you just have to find the extraordinary in your ordinary life.

It's love. But it's a different kind, ""Doesn't make it any less love, though.

We share out craziness, our neuroses, our little bit of screwed-up-ness that comes from our family. We share it. And it feels like love.

But when you choose your family, you get to choose how it is between you, too.

Funny how you can forget that every family isn't like yours.

What happens to you when you get older? Do you just forget everything from before you turned eighteen? Do you make yourself forget?

It'll make you look rugged, ' Mel says.'Because I woke up this morning, ' I say, 'and the one thing I realized I lacked was ruggedness.

I don't want to die. I want to live. I want to live long enough so I can really live.

I love that you're worried, ' she says, 'but you're worried about all the wrong things.

If you're too specific, people will purposely mishear you so they can be outraged about whatever thing that usually outrages them.

Between hope and despair treads a life without love!

One has to have the courage of one's pessimism.

I guess anytime you are mentioned with Hank Aaron, it is the ultimate compliment, not only as a hitter, but obviously, the great ballplayer that he was.

nothing says 'I love you' like reducing yourself to a smoldering pile of ashes

Love grants in a moment what toil can hardly acheive in an age.

I am sure that the power of vested interests is vastly exaggerated compared with the gradual encroachment of ideas.

Why onions? Because they're cheap, last a long time, can be lit any number of ways and force me to think about what happens when the form turns away from the light.

There is only one journey. Going inside yourself.

The principal difference between love and hate is that love is a irradiation, and hate is a concentration. Love makes everything lovely; hate concentrates itself on the object of its hatred.