Though we marry as adults, we don't marry adults. We marry children who have grown up and still rejoice in being children, especially if we're creative.

Look in the mirror. The face that pins you with its double gaze reveals a chastening secret.

Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains...

I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.

It began in mystery, and it will end in mystery, but what a savage and beautiful country lies in between.

I swear I will not dishonor my soul with hatred, but offer myself humbly as a guardian of nature, as a healer of misery, as a messenger of wonder, as an architect of peace.

Wonder is the heaviest element on the periodic table. Even a tiny fleck of it stops time.

No matter how politely one says it, we owe our existence to the farts of blue-green algae.

Words are such small things, like confetti in the brain, and yet they are color and clarify everything, they can stain the mind or warp the feelings.

The heart is a museum, filled with the exhibits of a lifetime's loves.

We live on the leash of our senses. There is no way in which to understand the world without first detecting it through the radar-net of our senses.

Life is a desert of shifting sand dunes. Unpredictable. Erratic. Harmony changes into dissonance, the immediate outlives the profound, esoteric becomes cliched. And vice versa.

The quest for knowledge and wisdom is true connection to divinity.

I wish If you stayed much longer !

You are the best book you could ever write phi

What makes a good pinch hitter? I wish the hell I knew.

Nothing exists except atoms and empty space; everything else is opinion.

Power is neither male nor female.

I'm not going chic, I swear. The geek endures. But, I mean, a snazzy cool suit looks good.

A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step and if that step is the right step, it becomes the last step.

Oh, sure. Of course, they say now that we’ve got Freud and the motorcar, God is dead.” “He’s not dead; just very tired.