You write poems with your fingertipsAnd I keep listening to the songs written on my skinBy some distant dream, similar wordsBut the verses never meet...

I'd rather be not the light in your lifeThe bright day might make me obscureI'd rather be the cold darknessFor it remains, unseen, uncertain and unsure

Such is the amazing power of stories to link us to our past and lead us all the way back to the present.

I’d rather have a cup of coffee and a cigarette than live in all that honesty.

Without the door let sorrow lie, And if for cold it hap to die, We'll bury 't in a Christmas pie, And evermore be merry.

I feel successful when the writing goes well. This lasts five minutes. Once when I was on the bestseller list I also felt successful. That lasted three minutes.

There's only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving and that's your own self.

Suffering is part of the human condition, and it comes to us all. The key is how we react to it, either turning away from God in anger and bitterness or growing closer to Him in trust and confidence.

We're more popular than Jesus now; I don't know which will go first, rock 'n' roll or Christianity.

I do sometimes think I could have done without the drugs actually; that was a waste of time, and a huge risk. But then again, there's nothing I can change, so in a way regret is pointless.

The ideas of the great playwrights are almost always larger than the experiences of even the best actors.

If there were a God he would want us to be better spirited than to take his word for everything.