Your half-caff double vanilla latte is getting cold over here, Francis.

Kids aint supposed to be grateful! They're supposed to eat your food, break your heart.

It's hard asking someone with a broken heart to fall in love again.

I've had a lifelong obsession with urban legends and American folklore.

Television showrunners are a foolishly optimistic bunch.

Beyond all our Blackberries and iPhones, we're dangerously separated from our food and water supplies.

We are definitely living in the butterfly effect theory, where any change that is made in the past is going to have a very logical cause-and-effect ramification of the present.

I've always said at the beginning of every single season of the show when I was running the show in the writers' room, "This is the last season, so let's smoke 'em if we've got 'em."

When I am kicking around show ideas, or really any idea, usually an image comes to me. I don't really start with a character or a logline like, "What if the electricity turned off?"

People simply don't make eye contact anymore.

I like to find ideas where the research is going to be fun.

I was so blessed. The first person I gave my heart to was an angel who plucked the feathers off his wings and built a nest for it.

Beware of those who are too focused with polishing and beautifying their outer shells. They lack true substance to understand that genuine beauty is reflected from the heart that resides inside.

The converted person will love the good he once hated, and hate the sin he once loved.

The flip side of the coin of which Good and Evil are but one side.

What Lily craved was the darkness made by enfolding arms, the silence which is not solitude, but compassion holding its breath.

All humanity could share a common insanity and be immersed in a common illusion while living in a common chaos. That can't be disproved, but we have no choice but to follow our senses.

I'm not making any plans. I'm just going to let the universe surprise me.

Fairy damsels met in forest wide / By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, / Lancelot or Pelleas, or Pellenore.

Who would attempt to fly with the tiny wings of a sparrow when the mighty power of an eagle has been given him

Painting is just a tool; it is nothing in itself. What counts is how you do it.