You have now reached infatuation’s final destination—the complete and merciless devaluation of self.

A true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.

I've never seen any life transformation that didn't begin with the person in question finally getting tired of their own bullshit.

Tis' better to live your own life imperfectly than to imitate someone else's perfectly.

Stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone ought to be.

I'm choosing happiness over suffering, I know I am. I'm making space for the unknown future to fill up my life with yet-to-come surprises.

This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something.

There's always another level up. There's always another ascension. More grace, more light, more generosity, more compassion, more to shed, more to grow.

You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight.

Never forget that once upon a time, in an unguarded moment, you recognized yourself as a friend.

If you're going to answer the call and you're going to transform and you're going to change, get ready. It is not a day at the beach.

Everyone wanted me to be the bad boy, the label wanted it, the publicists wanted it, but I was just trying to be myself.

So if you see no one like you, no one who agrees, don't worry. There are actually hundreds of people like you, and they're waiting for a leader. That person is you.

Strange secrets are let out by Death Who blabs so oft the follies of this world.

Nobody will ever notice that. Filmmaking is not about the tiny details. It's about the big picture.

It is always good men who do the most harm in the world.

We only see what we look at. To look is an act of choice.

If there's a poster boy for the fact that all essays are written through personae, it's Crèvecoeur.

I have never lost my faith in God.

I went out into the garden in the morning dusk, When sorrow enveloped me like a cloud; And the breeze brought to my nostril the odor of spices, As balm of healing for a sick soul.

The things I thought would happen didn't. Things I never anticipated unfolded.