“Where a man feels at home, outside of where he’s born, is where he’s meant to go.”

All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.

Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.

A man can be destroyed but not defeated.

No one you love is ever truly lost.

Optimism can keep a fool from accepting failure.

A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not.

Any man’s life, told truly, is a novel.

There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; all the rest are merely games.

Work could cure almost anything.

No, that is the great fallacy: the wisdom of old men. They do not grow wise. They grow careful.

The only thing that can ruin a good day is people.

Being against evil doesn’t make you good.

How little we know of what there is to know.

Night is always darker before the dawn and life is the same, the hard times will pass, every thing will get better and sun will shine brighter then ever.

We wait always for something that does not come.

Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?

Men are born soft and supple; dead, they are stiff and hard. Plants are born tender and pliant; dead, they are brittle and dry. Thus whoever is stiff and inflexible is a disciple of death.

To yield to Resistance deforms our spirit. It stunts us and makes us less than we are and were born to be.

To live fully is to let go and die with each passing moment, and to be reborn in each new one.

Never allow any soul to clips your wings, you were born an ember. You were born a flame.

You are nothing but sheer miracles, born from ashes of women who have walked this earth before you.

Women and girls should be able to determine their own future, no matter where they’re born.

There never is absolute birth nor complete death, in the strict sense, consisting in the separation of the soul from the body. What we call births are developments and growths, while what we call deaths are envelopments and diminutions.

You are born an artist or you are not. And you stay an artist, dear, even if your voice is less of a fireworks. The artist is always there.