Love... doesn't happen every day. It doesn't happen at all for some people

Like true philosophers I've come to believe that religion is an illusion of childhood, outgrown after proper education.

People loved you in the way they knew how - and often it was not the way you knew. Or needed.

He needed fresh air and sunshine. A walk in the woods and afterward a good book to read by the fire. Yeah, that was the life.

Cops before breakfast.Before coffee even. As if Mondays weren't bad enough.

If there was one life skill everyone on the planet needed, it was the ability to think with critical objectivity

Rachel delivered it like an official pronouncement. Like she was one of the fairies gifting Sleeping Beauty's christening: Beauty. Intelligence. Heterosexual.

To find them all in one package...well, perhaps better not to dwell on his package in my fragile state.

I thought of the words of the Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne. "If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.

The only thing worse than opera is someone who hums along with opera.

I don't know if real courage lies in storming barricades or simply not denying the truth.

i sometimes think i'm too in love with alone. who could i love more than this peace?

Forgiving yourself, believing in yourself and choosing to love yourself are the best gifts one could receive.

Some people succeed not because they have wealth and education, but because they have firm focus.

We cannot inherit a fixed, unmoving view of life and of art from the past generation.

Rock 'n' roll is just entertainment, and the kids who like to identify their youthful high spirits with a solid beat are thus possibly avoiding other pursuits that could be harmful to them.

I don't think CNN is 'fake news.' I think there are some reports everywhere, in print, on TV, on radio, in conversation, that are not well-researched and are sometimes based on falsehoods.

Yet once you've come to be part of this particular patch, you'll never love another. Like loving a woman with a broken nose, you may well find lovelier lovelies. But never a lovely so real.

The blues is celebration, because when you take sorrow and turn it into music, you transform it.

The essence of life is statistical improbability on a colossal scale.

Things [only] exist once they are represented.