“Talent is never static. It’s always growing or dying.”

Discipline and constant work are the whetstones upon which the dull knife of talent is honed until it becomes sharp enough, hopefully, to cut through even the toughest meat and gristle.

I dreamed of you. I dreamed you were wandering in the dark, and so was I. We found each other. We found each other in the dark.

Sometimes there is absolutely no difference at all between salvation and damnation.

The scariest moment is always just before you start.

The scariest moment is always just before you start.

Now I think all of us were born with a hole in our hearts, and we go around looking for the person who can fill it. You, you fill me up.

Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not.

If the stuff you’re writing is not for yourself, it won’t work.

We lie best when we lie to ourselves.

The mind can calculate, but the spirit yearns, and the heart knows what the heart knows.

Anything with the power to make you laugh over thirty years later isn’t a waste of time. I think something like that is very close to immortality.

We don’t know the days that will change our lives. Probably just as well.

French is the language that turns dirt into romance.

In both writing and sleeping, we learn to be physically still at the same time we are encouraging our minds to unlock from the humdrum rational thinking of our daytime lives.

Friends don’t spy; true friendship is about privacy, too.

If we don’t have each other, we go crazy with loneliness. When we do, we go crazy with togetherness.

Love is the only thing worth to live for and die for.

Does anything at all make any sense? No offense! Is everything real or just a lens of pretense? Anyway, I feel that this moment is dying and now I’m done wrying and trying.

We cannot be sure of having something to live for unless we are willing to die for it.

The die is cast.

I would rather die standing up to live life on my knees.

Once I was the sun. The sun that burnt so bright it lit up everyone’s sky. The sun ran out of fuel. The sun that died under its own weight. The sun that sucks on the light of others now. The sun is now a black hole, itself.

I know i say i don’t care, but if you were on the verge of dying i’d give you my life.

I solemnly assure you that I will not die as a Hindu.