I don't think there's any question journalists have become targets, but then I think that - that anyone who tries to practice liberty becomes a target of fanatics.

After all, spinning is its own reward. There wouldn't be carousels if it weren't so.

The scale and the brutality of our prisons are the moral scandal of American life.

We breathe in our first language, and swim in our second.

The special virtue of freedom is not that it makes you richer and more powerful but that it gives you more time to understand what it means to be alive.

The loneliness of the expatriate is of an odd and complicated kind, for it is inseparable from the feeling of being free, of having escaped.

Frauds master our minds; magicians, like poets and lovers, engage them in a permanent maze of possibilities.

What drives innovation is abundance and ease, not the pressure of scarcity.

Sometimes having a good time can be the outward evidence of a deep re-thinking.

Wit and puns aren't just décor in the mind; they're essential signs that the mind knows it's on, recognizes its own software, can spot the bugs in its own program.

Fanaticism comes in as many flavors as there are human beings.

Friendship is a poetry of life that is written in two hearts.

When you are reading something and you have people pop up in your head you are just sort of stuck with it.

Never underestimate the power of a good story.

My truth is that what doesn't kill you makes you weaker rather than stronger, although it makes you wiser.

I was, like, a history major, and I minored in art and Spanish, but I found myself gravitating toward media studies as time went on.

Middle age is when you find out where the action is so you can go someplace else.

I began with dance, doing ballet at 3, then tap, jazz, modern. Then I sang in church choirs, learned how to play clarinet and drums, sang with rock bands and only then did I get into musical theatre.

I try to be as honest about what I see and to speak rather than be silent, especially if it means I can save lives, or serve humanity.

All it takes is for one person to say you’re ugly, and you’re like, I guess I’m ugly. And that was it.

Large, heavy, ragged black clouds hung like crape hammocks beneath the starry cope of the night. You would have said that they were the cobwebs of the firmament.