“Yes, I am here. And you are lucky to be here too after all the absurd things you’ve done since you left home.”

May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks.

Living by faith includes the call to something greater than cowardly self-preservation.

The way is shut. It was made by those who are Dead, and the Dead keep it, until the time comes. The way is shut.

A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship.

His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom.

Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?

I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.

And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the ring passed out of all knowledge.

And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.

Short cuts make long delays.

He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.

Where there’s life there’s hope.

You can only come to the morning through the shadows.

It is useless to meet revenge with revenge; it will heal nothing.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring. Renewed shall be blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king.

How do you move on? You move on when your heart finally understands that there is no turning back.

For mines are for men, not for money. And money is not something to go mad about, and throw your hat into the air for.

And money is not something to go mad about …

Too much philosophy makes men mad.

You can not stop criminals and mad men with laws, you can only stop violence with the fear of armed victims.

I have come to the conclusion that Tony Blair has finally gone mad … he made assertions that are so jaw-droppingly and breathtakingly at variance with reality that he surely needs professional psychiatric help.

My mother gets all mad at me if I stay in a hotel. I’m 31-years-old, and I don’t want to sleep on a sleeping bag down in the basement. It’s humiliating.

In 1980 I finished three or four times in seventh place. I pushed like mad, yet everyone was gathered around the winner and they were thinking that I was just trundling around. But that’s motor racing.

Well I’ve made no secret of my life long love of MAD Magazine, it’s probably my first and greatest influence in terms of my comic sensibilities. I’ve known John [Ficarra] for many years, and we’ve been friends.