You’ve been inexpressibly lucky, ” he said finally. “And inexpressibly mad, although in your case the two seem to be the same thing

But she hadn't been able to take root. She'd remembered the wrong things, and forgotten too much. She'd remembered how to kill and how to hate, and she'd forgotten how to grow.

It's a lie that matches his desire.

One act of a kind deed is better than thousand words of knowledge.

If it doesn't sweat, jiggle, or pant, it's not alive.

What is the use of having an imagination if you can't make it work for you?

There is nothing glamorous or romantic about war. It's mostly about random pointless death and misery.

All creativity is a work in progress.

Must be nice to have that kind of unshakable belief in a merciful higher power.

For "The Intervention" I came up with a back-story and Clea [Duvall] was like, "No." And I was like, "I don't care."

I have found that living with faith in an unseen world requires constant effort.

Movement is a fantastic privilege but it ultimately only has meaning if you have a home to go back to.

The volumes of antiquity, like medals, may very well serve to amuse the curious, but the works of the moderns, like the current coin of a kingdom, are much better for immediate use.