My work is to give you what I know of my own particular path while allowing you to walk your own.

I would not have you descend into your own dream. I would have you be a conscious citizen of this terrible and beautiful world.

The spirit and soul are the body and brain, which are destructible-that is precisely why they are so precious.

Anyone can make a baby, but it takes a man to be a father.

You do not give your precious body to the billy clubs of Birmingham sheriffs, nor to the insidious activity of the streets.

To question what I see, then to question what I see after that, because the questions matter as much, perhaps more than, the answers.

You are growing into consciousness, and my wish for you is that you feel no need to constrict yourself to make other people comfortable.

I should not mistake her calm probing for the absence of anger.

Serious history was the West, and the West was white.

She had wanted her son to stand for what he believed and to be respectful. And he had died for believing his friends had a right to play their music loud, to be American teenagers.

I found that the same softness which once made me a target now compelled people to trust me with their stories.

But honestly... I just don't know what anyone's thinking. To me, that's scarier than any half-rotten ghoul trying to eat my flesh.

Poetry?"..."No, just thoughts, glimpses, things running through my head.

A life well lived is the most exquisite work of art.

Isn't man but a blossom taken by wind, and only the mountains and the sea and the stars and this land of the gods everlasting?

...the sun rose each morning to stare into my face with the blank but touching gaze of a lovely retarded child.

Well, there was a time when we used to sacrifice goats, but then we all became vegans, so we've been sacrificing tofu before the shows!

I only really started to go to plays and to be interested in drama 20 years ago when as an artist I was already well-rounded. I think I'm more disciplined today.

Messi is God, as a person and even more as a player. I knew him when he was a boy and I’ve watched him grow. He deserves it all.

I can't wait for the oil wells to run dry, for the last gob of black, sticky muck to come oozing out of some remote well. Then the glory of sail will return.