Everything comes home, my mother used to say; every word spoken, every shadow cast, every footprint in the sand. It can't be helped; it's part of what makes us who we are.

She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world.

Happiness. Simple as a glass of chocolate or tortuous as the heart. Bitter. Sweet. Alive.

It isn't just a village. The houses aren't just places to live. Everything belongs to everybody. Everyone belongs to everyone else. Even a single person can make a difference.

I let it go. It's like swimming against the current. It exhausts you. After a while, whoever you are, you just have to let go, and the river brings you home.

A man may plant a tree for a number of reasons. Perhaps he likes trees. Perhaps he wants shelter. Or perhaps he knows that someday he may need the firewood.

I've never been very good at leaving things behind. I tried, but I have always left fragments of myself there too, like seeds awaiting their chance to grow.

I have an advanced degree in procrastination and another one in paranoia.

Some people spend the whole of their lives sitting waiting for one train, only to find that they never even made it to the station.

Life is what you celebrate. All of it. Even its end.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

Just remember, a dark shadow need light to exist but light doesn't need darkness to be luminous.

He believed in his own decency with all his heart. So it was with every true monster, Vic supposed.

Before all else, Protestantism is, in its very essence, an appeal from all other authority to the divine authority of Holy Scripture

Being must be felt. It can't be thought.

My parents are not theatrical people, but my dad took me to the theater.

I knew how touring was for 10 years, but it's completely different now that things are popping off.

Violence is the first means and the last resort to pacify a people, and thus is something we need to continue to consider after the gunfire has ended.

It was tough doing 'Underneath the Lintel' in New Jersey in the wintertime, but rewarding. Those audiences were lively and interactive. On-stage was great, but off-stage was difficult.

So how do you know him? (Shahara) I knocked on his door one day and said, ‘Hi, I’m here to rob you. Hope you don’t mind. Oh, and by the way, will you be my friend?’ (Syn)

Herbes... comfort the wearied braine with fragrant smells which yielde a certaine kind of nourishment.