“Much to my own surprise, I got through it. And life…well, gradually became livable again.”

All that counts is the truth. Without it you’re basically just juggling people’s daft ideas.

Push yourself. Don’t Settle. Just live well. Just LIVE.

Sometimes, Clark, you are pretty much the only thing that makes me want to get up in the morning.

You can only actually help someone who wants to be helped.

She went kind of pink and laughed, the kind of laugh you do when you know yo shouldn’t be laughing.

If you’d bothered to ask me, Clark, if you’d bothered to consult me just once about this so-called fun outing of ours.

The kind of laugh that spoke of a conspiracy.

I chose to believe that God, a benign God, would understand our sufferings and forgive us our trespasses.

You decided what you thought you’d like me to do, and you went ahead and did it. You did what everyone else does. You decided for me.

Push yourself. Don’t settle. Wear those stripy legs with pride. And if you insist on settling down with some ridiculous bloke, make sure some of this is squirreled away somewhere.

I told him I loved him,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And he just said it wasn’t enough.” Her eyes were wide and bleak . “How am I supposed to live with that?

Just live well. Just live

Try to write at least 500 words a day. You may ditch 499 of them tomorrow, but you will still be moving forward.

It overwhelmed me and tore at my heart and my stomach and my head and it pulled me under, and I couldn’t bear it. I honestly thought I couldn’t bear it.

I had that. I could almost feel the miles between us shrinking, as if we were at two ends of some invisible elastic thread.

I kissed him, trying to bring him back. I kissed him and let my lips rest against his so that our breath mingled and the tears from my eyes became salt on his skin, and I told myself that, somewhere, tiny particles of him would become tiny particles of me, ingested, swallowed, alive, perpetual.

The action of today becomes the destiny of tomorrow.

Become vision itself.

Human history becomes more and more a race between education and catastrophe.

Before we had our becoming here, we existed There, men other than now; we were pure souls.

When truth has no burning, then it is philosophy, when it gets burning from the heart, it becomes poetry.

We must teach science in the mother tongue. Otherwise, science will become a highbrow activity.

It’s when you get to 60 when everything starts to go pear-shaped. Everyone thinks that becoming an older guy is easy, but you never consider it fully. It comes as quite a shock.

It just seems like we get more popular every eight years or so. For some reason, it becomes cool to like Motorhead again.