The trouble with going crazy is that you have to go around making it up to everyone afterwards. It seems they should be making something up to you.

Some of my best friends are illusions. Been sustaining me for years.

The moon develops the imagination, as chemicals develop photographic images.

You can always trust information given you by people who are crazy; they have an access to truth not available through regular channels.

It's expectation that differentiates you from the dead.

Sundays are terrible because it is clear that there is no one in charge of the world. And this knowledge leave you drifting around, grappling with unfulfilled expectations and vague yearnings.

Inner resources are like natural resources; they both dry up eventually when the demands on them are heavy.

If you have enough fantasies, you're ready, in the event that something happens.

The freeway is the last frontier. It is unsurpassed as a training ground for the sharpening of survival skills.

There is no irritant as painful as an ace up your sleeve that you can never use; it's the kind of thing that causes oysters to produce pearls.

I can’t wait fifteen years to do my work: Because my ideas are coming now.

She looked away. Her attitude seemed to suggest that she had finished with him, and would be obliged if somebody would come and sweep him up.

Instead of hating someone, pray for that person. Don't forget to pray for yourself as well, that you may learn how to let go and forgive.

Your thoughts are your wand. Trust what you think and it will happen.

If we all looked out for each other a little bit more, I think we wouldn't have a lot of the crisis that we have in today's society.

I definitely love to talk to my men...I want to see how I feel, how they feel.

There is an atmosphere of spiritual effort here. No other city is quite like it. I wake early, often at 5 o'clock, and start writing at once.

"Why doesn't the fellow who says, "I'm no speechmaker," let it go at that instead of giving a demonstration? "

It was the spirit of the workers that was dangerous. The tired, gray crowds ebbing and flowing perpetually into the mills had waked and opened their mouths to sing.

The shimmering night does not stay for mortals, not misfortunes, nor wealth, but in a moment it is gone, and to the turn of another comes joy and loss.