You're lucky. I'm always conscious of myself —in my mind. Painfully conscious.

I think of death only with tranquility, as an end. I refuse to let death hamper life. Death must enter life only to define it.

You are -- your life, and nothing else.

I never could bear the idea of anyone's expecting something from me. Italways made me want to do just the opposite.

At an age when most children are playing hopscotch or with their dolls, you, poor child, who had no friends or toys, you toyed with dreams of murder, because that is a game to play alone.

Hell is—other people!

Much more likely you’ll hurt me. Still what does it matter? If I’ve got to suffer, it may as well be at your hands, your pretty hands.

Good digestions, the gray monotony of provincial life, and the boredom—ah the soul-destroying boredom—of long days of mild content.

I have yet to discover a source of information, practical advice, and hope that compares to the wisdom found in the Bible.

In all the horror films that I have done, all of those women were strong women. I don't feel I ever played the victim, although I was always in jeopardy.

For me, half the joy of achieving has been the struggle and the fight, the pitting myself against the world and all its competition - and winning.

I consider the Chinese government's policy among the most intelligent in the world.

If on paper one would say, "You're gonna spend three weeks in Death Valley," you say, "No, I'm not going to be able to." Very often, very quickly you forget about it.

I feel like when I stay focused on encouraging people, and giving them hope, and helping them live their everyday life, I think that's where I can have the most impact.

Decomposition, for most, starts when they leave the free, social, and uncorrupted college life for the solitary confinement of professions and nuclear families.

The relevant question is not simply what shall we do tomorrow, but rather what shall we do today in order to get ready for tomorrow.

Friendship is blessed on trust, without it there is nothing.

Every man has a bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbour's faults, and another behind him in which he stows his own.