When somebody talks about home, you have to listen carefully so you know exactly which one the person is referring to.

When things fall apart, the children of the land scurry and scatter like birds escaping a burning sky.

I am starting to talk fast now, and I have to remember to slow down because when I get excited, I start to sound like myself and my American accent goes away.

[Jesus Christ] used to have blue eyes but I painted them brown like mine and everybody's, to make him normal.

Running and chanting, the word change in the air like it's something you can grab and put in your mouth and sink your teeth into.

Because we were not in our country, we could not use our own languages, and so when we spoke our voices came out bruised.

And they had nothing, except of course memories, their own, and those passed down by their mothers and mothers' mothers. A nation's memory.

this place doesn't look like my America

That's what you do in America: you smile at people you don't know and you smile at people you don't even like and you smile for no reason.

You want Change, today we'll show you Change!Here's your democracy, your human rights, eat it, eat eat eat!

[Jesus Christ] used to have blue eyes but I painted them brown like mine and everybody’s, to make him normal.

Falling into true love, is not taking a rope to climb out

Conceit may bring about one's own downfall.

I think that one should view with philosophic admiration the strange paths of the libido and should investigate the purposes of its circuitous ways.

I'm not active in politics. I vote as a citizen. And if somebody cares to know what my opinion is at the time of the election, I might or might not share it publicly.

Sinnes are not knowne till they bee acted.

The name of mistress instead of wife would be dearer and more honourable for me, only love given freely, rather than the constriction of the marriage tie, is of significance to an ideal relationship.

George W. Bush doesn't care about black people.

"God does not play games with His loyal servants," said the Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice. "Whooo-eee," said Crowley. "Where have you been?"

Love resembles a tree: it bends under its own weight, deeply rooted in our being and sometimes turns green in the ruins of a heart.