We're on the same wavelength. We're connected that way, even if I'm away from her.

Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting.

People fall in love without reason, without even wanting to. You can't predict it. That's love.

The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.

Can'ttrustpeople. Won'tdoanygood. They'llkillyoueverytime. They'llkilleachother. They'llkilleveryone.

Precipitate as weather, she appeared from somewhere, then evaporated, leaving only memory.

Suicides? Heart attacks? The papers didn't seem interested. The world was full of ways to die, too many to cover. Newsworthy deaths had to be exceptional. Most people go unobserved.

Tendencies. Yougottendencies. Soevenifyoudideverythingoveragain, yourwholelife, yougottendenciestodojustwhatyoudid, alloveragain. -The Sheep Man.

The real world—where I probably could never be happy, and never get anywhere.

For darkness terrifies. It swallows you, warps you, nullifies you. Who alive can possibly profess confidence in darkness? In the dark, you can't see.

We keep moving. And as we do, the things around us, well, they disappear.

I needed to know that there was such a thing as love and that it brought smiles and joy in its wake.

Oh, to awake from dreaming!

If you don't understand that you work for your mislabeled 'subordinates', then you know nothing of leadership. You know only tyranny.

Where there is a mother in the home, matters go well.

The western is the simplest form of drama - a gun, death.

There's no other product that changes function like the computer.

I had to delegate authority to the people on my staff. That means you shave away the hierarchy.

I've found that limitations can be an artist's best friend sometimes.

Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.

The song of the umrhubhe creates a world of dreams.