I have a certain avoidance of reality that makes fantasy an ideal choice for me.

I'd always liked jogging because it was a place to think.

It is possible to be in love with you just because of who you are.

While I'm gone," Gansey said, pausing, "dream me the world. Something new for every night.

All that mattered was that something had struck the match, and Gansey was burning.

They were always walking away from him. But he never seemed able to walk away from them.

'We have to be back in three hours,' Ronan said. 'I just fed Chainsaw but she'll need it again.' 'This,' Gansey replied, 'is precisely why I didn't want to have a baby with you.'

I wish you could be kissed, Jane,' he said. 'Because I would beg just one off you. Under all this.' He flailed an arm toward the stars.

Adam had once told Gansey, "Rags to riches isn't a story anyone wants to hear until after it's done.

I think they're here because I thought they ought to be here," Gansey said. Blue replied sarcastically. "Okay, God.

When Gansey was polite, it made him powerful. When Adam was polite, he was giving power away.

Seek renewal of mind.

Bettering the lives of others is the role of a person with a servant’s heart.

What is kinder--to believe the best of people and burden them with a nobility beyond their endurance--or to see them as they are, and accept it because it makes them comfortable?

Death is the final sleep that you never awaken from.

The same way people are now paying a couple thousand dollars to fly to other parts of the world, people will be paying $50,000 to spend a weekend on a space station.

At my concerts most of the chicks are looking for liberation, they think I'm gonna show 'em how to do it.

I would visit Vegas every year when I was a kid. Vegas, to a kid, is a playground, as much as it is to adults. I discovered the magic store in a hotel and would spend hours and hours in there.

We like to imagine that in history, truth will prevail through sheer persuasive power. Sadly, this is not the case. Truth needs champions.

What joy have I in June's return? My feet are parched-my eyeballs burn, I scent no flowery gust; But faint the flagging zephyr springs, With dry Macadam on its wings, And turns me 'dust to dust.'

It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.