“This is. And thou art. There is no safety. There is no end. The word must be heard in silence. There must be darkness to see the stars.”

Translation is entirely mysterious. Increasingly I have felt that the art of writing is itself translating, or more like translating than it is like anything else.

We will not know our own injustice if we cannot imagine justice. We will not be free if we do not imagine freedom.

Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art. Very often in our art, the art of words.

The end justifies the means. But what if there never is an end? All we have is means.

To the lives that haven’t been lived yet. That will be my gift back to the world that gave me the life I did live, the love I loved, the breath I breathed.

All makers must leave room for the acts of the spirit. But they have to work hard and carefully, and wait patiently, to deserve them.

Those who build walls are their own prisoners.

The Earth is beautiful, and bright, and kindly, but that is not all. The Earth is also terrible, and dark, and cruel. The rabbit shrieks dying in the green meadows.

The story is not in the plot but in the telling.

Life goes on, even if two-headed and glowing faintly in the dark.

Our roots are in the dark; the earth is our country.

Civilized Man says: I am Self, I am Master, all the rest is other–outside, below, underneath, subservient. I own, I use, I explore, I exploit, I control. What I do is what matters. What I want is what matter is for. I am that I am, and the rest is women & wilderness, to be used as I see fit.

We read books to find out who we are.

All knowledge is local, all truth is partial. No truth can make another truth untrue. All knowledge is part of the whole knowledge.

Listen.’ For being saved is not the point. Music saves nothing. Merciful, uncaring, it denies and breaks down all the shelters, the houses men build for themselves, that they may see the sky.

Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.

For me, love is the never-ending question. It is confusing. It is the answer, but it is also inundated with contradictions and complications.

And at the end of the day, I just want my work to speak for itself.

You have to stay fresh and blank in your mind when you go out to bat. You complicate things, and you’re gone.

Democracy and socialism are means to an end, not the end itself.

At the end of the day, people have the right to have opinions. I have the right to have an opinion. And I have the right to say what I want on my music ’cause it’s my music. If you don’t like it, don’t click on it, don’t download it.

The most successful men in the end are those whose success is the result of steady accretion.

I’ll put you through hell, but at the end of it all we’ll be champions.

Young people think Rosa Parks just sat down on a bus and ended segregation, but that wasn’t the case at all.