When God closes a door, he opens a window. Yeah. The problem was that this particular window opened off the tenth story, and he wasn't so sure God supplied parachutes.

When the day shall come that we do part," he said softly, and turned to look at me, "if my last words are not 'I love you'-ye'll ken it was because I didna have time.

Does it ever stop? The wanting you?" "Even when I've just left ye. I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.

It was a beautiful bright autumn day, with air like cider and a sky so blue you could drown in it.

Torn between the impulse to stroke his head, and the urge to cave it in with a rock, I did neither.

I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower's stem.

For so many years, for so long, I have been so many things, so many different men. But here," he said, so softly I could barely hear him, "here in the dark, with you… I have no name.

One dictum I had learned on the battlefields of France in a far distant war: You cannot save the world, but you might save the man in front of you, if you work fast enough.

Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, and God! I loved her well.

You dinna need to understand me, Sassenach," he said quietly. "So long as you love me.

D'ye ken that the only time I am without pain is in your bed, Sassenach? When I take ye, when I lie in your arms-my wounds are healed, then, my scars forgotten.

And where love ends, hate begins

I keep six honest serving-men they taught me all I know their names are What and Why and When and How and Where and Who

When I was a young boy, I can remember in the community that I grew up in, seeing people in the community who had numbers that were on their arms.

In worship, God imparts himself to us.

Long strands of drool stretched from between his fangs and dripped on the pavement, sending a heady scent of jasmine to swirl through the air. Perfumed monster spit. What was the world coming to?

There is poetry in a pork chop to a hungry man.

I think that bad drama in a relationship has nothing to do with the individuals, it just really has to do with the dynamic that those individuals create.

Before any movie of yours gets made, it will be vetted by the studio's marketing department. So, you do have to answer the question: Who is your movie for?

Yo, I'm god incarnate. From the grimiest back blocks. Pazienza lyrical equivalent of Sasquatch

Stick me in a confessional and ask the question: Sir, if you had the authority, would you forbid smoking in America? You'd get a solemn and contrite, Yes.