What was he? Storyteller and secretary and doer of odd jobs, neither Tizerkane nor delegate, just someone along for the dream.

He'd sooner die trying to hold the world on his shoulders than running away. Better always to run toward. And so he did.

Don't look at me like that, " said Ruza."Like what?""Like I'm a beautiful book you're about to open and plunder with your greedy mad eyes.

...but one can't be irredeemable who shows reverence for books.

On the occasions that he did look up from the page, he would seem as though he were awakening from a dream.

He wasn't an alchemist, or a hero. He was a librarian, and a dreamer. He was a reader, and the unsung expert on a long-lost city no one cared a thing about.

It was a different life out here, but make no mistake: Lazlo was every bit the dreamer he had always been, if not more. He might have left his books, but he carried all his stories with him.

Even if it was just walls and a roof with papers inside, it had bewitched him, and drawn him in, and given him everything he needed to become himself.

It was impossible, of course. But when did that ever stop any dreamer from dreaming.

If you're afraid of your own dreams, you're welcome here in mine.

I turned my nightmares into fireflies and caught them in a jar.

If you look hard and long, you can find us. If you listen hard and long, you can hear any of us, call any of us that you wish.

The greatest virtue is endurance.

When we say we have "hit the limits," we are saying that nature is the problem, when in fact the limits we have hit are the limits of destruction and waste, not nature.

Waking up in the morning isn't a choice, you know.

If you paid Americans a living wage, they would be able to pay for products made by Americans in America.

I want order and taste. A well displayed meal is enhanced one hundred per cent in my eyes.

A victim to certain obscure forms of gout, he was in character neither stupid, nor inhuman, but he suffered from the usual drawbacks of his class, - too much money, and too few ideas.

Helping hands are better than Praying Lips

Somebody said to me, 'But the Beatles were anti-materialistic.' That's a huge myth. John and I literally used to sit down and say, 'Now, let's write a swimming pool.'

"What do women want?" "They eat green salad and drink human blood."