The idea of saving anything was folly, a life especially. No life had been truly saved, not in the history of mankind. They were merely prolonged. Everything comes to an end.

Heroes didn't win. The heroes were whoever happened to win. History told their story -- the dead didn't say a word. All of it was bullshit.

Sleep was a vehicle for passing the time, for avoiding the present. It was a trolley for the depressed, the impatient, and the dying.

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I'm always willing to endure humiliation on behalf of my characters.

I got kind of tired of playing, I think. But I think it will be part of my life again, maybe.

You don't know anything, but I know even less.

We should be able to support our own economy within our own borders.

When people have good energy, I feel it. And generally I feel that people do like me. And that makes me very happy.

Your manners will depend very much upon the quality of what you frequently think on; for the soul is as it were tinged with the colour and complexion of thought.

It is the creator of fiction's point of view; it is the character who interests him. Sometimes he wants to convince the reader that the story he is telling is as interesting as universal history.

Life... It tends to respond to our outlook, to shape itself to meet our expectations.

I'm having a magenta day. Not just red, but magenta!