“All our souls are written in our eyes.”

The dream, alone, is of interest. What is life without a dream?

You must believe me when I believe, and not when I doubt.

My soul, be satisfied with flowers, with fruit, with weeds even; but gather them in the one garden you may call your own.

A large nose is in fact the sign of an affable man, good, courteous, witty, liberal, courageous, such as I am.

It is at night that faith in light is admirable.

My heart always timidly hides itself behind my mind. I set out to bring down stars from the sky, then, for fear of ridicule, I stop and pick little flowers of eloquence.

To joke in the face of danger is the supreme politeness, a delicate refusal to cast oneself as a tragic hero.

To offend is my pleasure; I love to be hated.

It is at night that faith in light is admirable.

A kiss is a rosy dot placed on the “i” in loving.

Your neck. I want to kiss it.

A great nose may be an index Of a great soul.

Stay awhile! ‘Tis sweet,. . . The rare occasion, when our hearts can speak Our selves unseen, unseeing!

A large nose is in fact the sign of an affable man, good, courteous, witty, liberal, courageous, such as I am.

A kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear.

A kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear.

No matter when it was written. That the author has written his book only for me.

J.Lo’ in written English only has three letters, and you still spelled it ‘M-smiley face-pound sign.

Anytime I audition for something, it’s always a question of whether or not the people I’m auditioning for understand I’m an improviser and I like to do that, and if they like that or if they just want someone who’s going to do what’s written.

I think – the more sentences you write, the more sentences you have written, if that slightly Zen confection makes any sense.

I love Billy Joel. I cry sometimes when I hear ‘The Stranger.’ ‘You May Be Right’ may be one of the greatest songs ever written.

But, in North Korea, it’s just the opposite. There’s one story. It’s written by the Kim regime. And 23 million people are conscripted to be secondary characters.

Imagine a world in which no writer has written a literary novel in sixty years.

It is to be regretted that few persons who have arrived at any degree of eminence or fame, have written Memorials of themselves, at least such as have embraced their private as well as their public life.