It isn't that there's no right and wrong here. There's no right.

That element of surprise is what I look for when I am writing. It is my way of judging what I am doing - which is never an easy thing to do.

The world is what it is; men who are nothing, who allow themselves to become nothing, have no place in it.

One isn’t born one’s self. One is born with a mass of expectations, a mass of other people’s ideas – and you have to work through it all.

Most people are not really free. They are confined by the niche in the world that they carve out for themselves. They limit themselves to fewer possibilities by the narrowness of their vision.

It is wrong to have an ideal view of the world. That's where the mischief starts. That's where everything starts unravelling.

The only lies for which we are truly punished are those we tell ourselves.

Home is, I suppose just a child's idea. A house at night, and a lamp in the house. A place to feel safe.

One always writes comedy at the moment of deepest hysteria.

The world is always in movement.

All the details of the life and the quirks and the friendships can be laid out for us, but the mystery of the writing will remain. No amount of documentation, however fascinating, can take us there.

If you have sixty seconds worth of distance...run!

They [Erasers] were bad fliers, " Angel chimed in, "And in their minds, they weren't all kill the mutants, like they usually are. They were like, remember to flap!

Wit - the salt with which the American humorist spoils his intellectual cookery by leaving it out.

Kids get caught up in technical & electronic things like games & videos when all we had were magazines.

I come from a family of musicians. Even the sewing machine is a Singer.

I believe that Northern Ireland has come to a time of peace, a time when hate will no longer rule.

I lived in Indonesia for four years and I understand trance and magic and where it comes from.

Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams.

Everyone is the keeper of a dream

Beauty is the garden scent of roses, murmuring water flowing gently...Can words describe the indescribable?