True artcomes from flying with the madnessso close you burn your eyelashes.

I hope to arrive at my death, late, in love, and a little drunk.

I worry there is something broken in our generation, there are too many sad eyes on happy faces.

We are made of all those who have built and broken us.

Brushing a girl’s hair behind her earonce a daywill solve more problemsthan all thosetherapists and drugs.

She was afraid of heightsbut she was much more afraid of never flying.

Depression is being colorblind and constantly told how colorful the world is.

From the moment I saw her I knew this onewas worththebroken heart.

Our songslive longer thanour kingdoms.

I will follow you, my love, to the edge of all our days, to our very last tomorrows.

We humans are so tortured by not properly guessing what will make us happy.

Alone we can do so little

You go on. You set one foot in front of the other, and if a thin voice cries out, somewhere behind you, you pretend not to hear, and keep going.

...The lies we tell, and let ourselves believe, in the name of love.The first thing you should know is that everyone lies. The second thing is that it matters.

Human sin is stubborn, but not as stubborn as the grace of God and not half as persistent, not half so ready to suffer to win its way

The kind of programming that C provides will probably remain similar absolutely or slowly decline in usage, but relatively, JavaScript or its variants, or XML, will continue to become more central.

I don't want our culture diluted. We need to close the borders now and let everyone assimilate to a Western, white, English-speaking way of life.

I think that in some cases, I've made films that have a sentimental quality, at least as part of the film.

The secret to a successful career in virtually any field is good public relations. Forget results. Forget the facts. Perception is all that matters.

I hope you feel better today. Please ring me at work if you are dead.

The particular qualities and intentions of photographs tend to be swallowed up in the generalized pathos of time past.