What is it that you contain? The dead, time, light patterns of millenia opening in your gut. What is salted up in the memory of you? Memory past and memory future.

I don't own my emotions unless I can think about them. I am not afraid of feeling but I am afraid of feeling unthinkingly. I don't want to drown. My head is my heart's lifebelt.

And you? Now that I have discovered you? Beautiful, dangerous, unleashed. Still I try to hold you, knowing that your body is faced with knives.

She was fragile, gentle, wide awake in a sleeping world.

Perhaps it is worse when love has flowed freely to find it one day dammed.

Walk with me, memory to memory, the shared path, the mutual view. Walk with me. The past lies in wait. It is not behind. It seems to be in front. How else could it trip me as as I start to run?

Walk with me, memory to memory, the shared path, the mutual view. Walk with me. The past lies in wait. It is not behind. It seems to be in front. How else could it trip me as I start to run?

My grandmother whispering to herself, over and over, "David is in heaven now, David is in heaven now, ' my mind repeating Schrodinger's Cat, Schrodinger's Cat.

If the universe is movement, it will not be in one direction only. We think of our lives as linear but it is the spin of the earth that allows us to observe time. Walk with me.

Rights begin where love ends. Shall we argue over who is the most to blame?

Till tired he sleeps and life's poor play is o'er.

Certainly, nothing would stop me coming home for Christmas, if I can. But I've worked a lot in theatre, and in theatre in New York, we work Christmas Day a lot of the time as well.

Acting was important, but it was not as important as getting an education, and I credit my parents with a lot of that.

I love to be busy and be challenged. I'm my happiest when I'm under pressure and almost overwhelmed by how much I have to get done.

And after two days in civilization we realized we could never stay for long and started to plan our next adventure.

It may seem strange that of all men sailors should be tinkering at their last wills and testaments, but there are no people in the world more fond of that diversion.

It's a tough thing-you get in a situation where you feel you have to be perfect all the time and it sucks.

We can't end poverty if we fail to save the lives of our world's mothers.

This book fills a much-needed gap.

An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards.