My lungs taste the air of Time,Blown past falling sands.

The mystery of life isn't a problem to solve, but a reality to experience.

Without change, something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken.

All governments suffer a recurring problem: Power attracts pathological personalities.

If we define Futurism as an exploration beyond accepted limits, then the nature of limiting systems becomes the first object of exploration.

When politics and religion are intermingled, a people is suffused with a sense of invulnerability, and gathering speed in their forward charge, they fail to see the cliff ahead of them

There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.

Do actions agree with words? There's your measure of reliability. Never confine yourself to the words.

Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty.

Justice belongs to those who claim it, but let the claimant beware lest he create new injustice by his claim and thus set the bloody pendulum of revenge into its inexorable motion

The best contribution one can make to humanity is to improve oneself.

Art is beauty, the perpetual invention of detail, the choice of words, the exquisite care of execution.

Unrelated doesn't necessarily mean unrelated. Allow ideas to dwell with one another.

Greek is doubtless the most perfect [language] that has been contrived by the art of man.

It seems to be almost inevitable that the man who accepts a subordinate economic position in the Family degenerates into a loafer and a tyrant.

During true revival, thousands of lost people are suddenly swept into the Kingdom of God. Scenes of the lost coming to the Savior in great, and unprecedented numbers, are common.

Be patient when it seems things are not going right and may never be right again. Accept that what is yours will come to you in the right way at just the right moment.

And connected I had been. When the fish changed directions, I felt it. when it slowed or sped up, I felt that too. It's such a raw thing, this shared existence with a piece of bucking biomass.

My fans are the best. I mean if there was a war, I think they'd definitely win just because they'd kill them with kindness.

If you're always sad when you think about me, then how can you remember me?

The point at which the photograph ceases to function as a metaphor is the point at which it is free to propose an experiential model.