...the only difference between a young person at the height of their exuberance and a very old person who is frail and physically wasted is time.

Real friendship or love is not manufactured or achieved by an act of will or intention. Friendship is always an act of recognition.

The life and passion of a person leave an imprint on the ether of a place. Love does not remain within the heart, it flows out to build secret tabernacles in a landscape.

Real intimacy is a sacred experience. It never exposes its secret trust and belonging to the voyeuristic eye of a neon culture. Real intimacy is of the soul, and the soul is reserved.

We do not need to grieve for the dead. Why should we grieve for them? They are now in a place where there is no more shadow, darkness, loneliness, isolation, or pain. They are home.

Inspiration is always a surprising visitor.

When time is reduced to linear progress, it is emptied of presence.

Friendship is a creative and subversive force. It claims that intimacy is the secret law of life and universe.

Beauty is the illumination of your soul.

All you can ever achieve is a sense of your soul. You gain little glimpses of its light, colors, and contours. You feel the inspiration of its possibilities and the wonder of its mysteries.

The secret and the sacred are sisters. When the secret is not respected, the sacred vanishes. Consequently, reflection should not shine too severe or aggressive a light on the world of the soul.

Have we become so defensive that we cannot even tolerate a kind act?

I look coolly in to the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent, the person who would keep me alive at his own expense. And I promise myself I will defeat his plan.

When the only exorcise you get is running for a bus, get more buses!

Do I hear a challenge?” she whispers, “Oh, Carlos. You know I can’t resist a challenge.

People talk about love as if it were something you could give, like an armful of flowers.

The idea really came to me the day I got my new false teeth.

How our old friend [Michelangelo] of the Sistine would have loved to photograph his workers, perched on the fragile planks. Dali was right to say Leonardo only worked from photographs.

When power ballads come back, we'll get big hair again.

I don't own everything, I do have a partner.

Why does she have wings?' So she can fly.