“Hateful to me as are the gates of hell, Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart, Utters another.”

There will be killing till the score is paid.

Pray, for all men need the aid of the gods.

Death submits to no one.

Go on with a spirit that fears nothing.

Who love too much, hate in the like extreme.

Whoever obeys the gods, to him they particularly listen.

For a friend with an understanding heart is worth no less than a brother.

Few sons are like their fathers, most are worse, few better.

Have patience, heart.

Most grievous of all deaths it is to die of hunger.

It is not strength, but art, obtains the prize, And to be swift is less than to be wise.

Goddess of song, teach me the story of a hero.

Be still my heart; thou hast known worse than this.

I guess some people never change. Or, they quickly change and then quickly change back.

No man or woman born, coward or brave, can shun his destiny.

For too much rest becomes a pain.

Only through Beauty’s morning-gate, dost thou penetrate the land of knowledge.

Sometimes I feel like I’m actually on the wrong planet. It’s great when I’m in my garden, but the minute I go out the gate I think, ‘What the hell am I doing here?

The self is only a threshold, a door, a becoming between two multiplicities.

I like celluloid, I like film, I like the way that when a movie is projected it sort of breathes a little in the gate. That’s the magic of it to me.

The kingdom of God is just behind the darkness of closed eyes, and the first gate that opens to it is your peace.

I want to risk hitting my head on the ceiling of my talent. I want to really test it out and say: O.K., you’re not that good. You just reached the level here. I don’t ever want to fail, but I want to risk failure every time out of the gate.

The words ‘Here you can find perfect peace’ can be written only over the gates of a cemetery.

Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.