Everything's always changing, Charlie. We become who we are. The mask melts into the face.

As if it were possible for one person to care about another and still treat him or her like this.

But what if time worked the other way around?What if what his adolescent self had felt then was the ghost of his present one, sitting here on a sagging bench, beckoning him into his future?

And didn't time always slow, anyway, the closer you came to what you wanted?

There is no such thing as a perfect phrase, or a private language, and . . . time only runs the one way.

Some people think the real them is whoever they are when they're not around other people.

It's like Charlie's dreamed everything he lived through here.

Three’s all you need to change the world. Look at the Bolsheviks, or the Jimi Hendrix Experience.

William, an artist is someone who combines a desperate need to be understood with the fiercest love of privacy-

No amount of art, even of the Great American variety, can elevate you above, or insulate you from, the divisions, the cataclysms, of ordinary life.

Reading it was like subletting a small apartment in someone else's head.

It's the most exciting thing to watch God work when I've asked him about something, to listen to him and watch him work. It's like this friendship, and it just grows and grows and grows and grows.

If what you are doing is not moving you towards your goals, then it's moving you away from your goals.

You know when somebody really knows what they're drawing from and you can feel it when you see the movie.

It’s not fair. People claim to know you through the things you’ve done, and not by sitting down and listening to you speak for yourself.

Often a quite assified remark becomes sanctified by use and petrified by custom; it is then a permanency, its term of activity a geologic period.

There will be no end to the troubles of states,Or of humanity itself,Till philosophers become kings in this world,Or till those we now call kings and rulers really And truly become philosophers

Life reflects, life resounds, life echoes whatsoever you throw at life.

I was brought up with the 3 Ds: Determination, Discipline and Da Lord.

We’re supposed to depend upon God for our protection and our provision and for our daily bread, not for our government.

Hamlet: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Ophelia: 'Tis brief, my lord. Hamlet: As woman's love.