When I am writing, I do not distinguish between the natural and supernatural. Everything seems real. That is my world, you could say.

Unclose your mind. You are not a prisoner. You are a bird in flight, searching the skies for dreams.

I have a million things to talk to you about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.

No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself.

Say it before you run out of time. Say it before it's too late. Say what you're feeling. Waiting is a mistake.

I probably still haven’t completely adapted to the world. I don’t know, I feel like this isn’t the real world. The people, the scene: they just don’t seem real to me.

But if you knew you might not be able to see it again tomorrow, everything would suddenly become special and precious, wouldn’t it?

The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time.

When I first met you, I felt a kind of contradiction in you. You’re seeking something, but at the same time, you are running away for all you’re worth.

When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it -- to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once.

one should never assume anything

Indifferentism is the worst kind of disease that can affect people.

Life is a thorough university

When I read the script, I liked the script very much and I thought it was a marvelous part for her, because I think it is a change of pace. I mean, we know how wonderful she is in romantic comedy.

I believe I am the highest power, absolutely.

Never to tire, never to grow cold; to be patient, sympathetic, tender; to look for the budding flower and the opening heart; to hope always; like God, to love always--this is duty.

The mightiest love was granted him Love that does not expect to be loved.

The truth is that every true admirer of the novels cherishes the happy thought that he alone - reading between the lines - has bcome the secret friend of their author.

Everything is banal in experience, fleeting in duration, sordid in content; in all respects the same today as generations now dead and buried have found it to be.

Pigs and cows and chickens and people are all competing for grain.