I think the whole glory of writing lies in the fact that it forces us out of ourselves and into the lives of others.

Dare to be strong and courageous. That is the road. Venture anything.

The object of art is not to make salable pictures. It is to save yourself.

The lives of people are like young trees in a forest. They are being choked by climbing vines. The vines are old thoughts and beliefs planted by dead men.

You won’t arrive. It is an endless search.

There is within every human being a deep well of thinking over which a heavy iron lid is kept clamped.

The thing of course, is to make yourself alive. Most people remain all of their lives in a stupor.

I go about looking at horses and cattle. They eat grass, make love, work when they have to, bear their young. I am sick with envy of them.

It was a cold day but the sun was out and the trees were like great bonfires against gray distant fields and hills.

The whole object of education is...to develop the mind. The mind should be a thing that works.

Interest in the lives of others, the high evaluation of these lives, what are they but the overflow of the interest a man finds in himself, the value he attributes to his own being?.

I guess it really had been brave . . . because it was so bugger-all stupid, and if there was one thing I'd come to realize, ti was that bravery and bugger-all stupidity went hand in hand.

Too many people miss the silver lining because they're expecting gold.

Do all you can to make your dreams come true.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds!

Punk rock isn't supposed to be for everyone. There is that sort of private club mentality, which is necessary. It keeps things from getting watered down and boring.

Everything in my life has been challenging but rewarding.

The more Keystone comedies I make, the more convinced I become that comedy is an art, and a high one at that.

If we are focusing on our needs, the relationship is in trouble.

He who is allowed to do as he likes will soon run his head into a brick wall out of sheer frustration.

A poet needs to keep his wilderness alive inside him. To remain a poet after forty requires an awareness of your darkest Africa, that part of yourself that will never be tamed.