“The most beautiful stories always start with wreckage.”

I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.

It is so much easier to live placidly and complacently. Of course, to live placidly and complacently is not to live at all.

He was a silent fury who no torment could tame.

I do not live for what the world thinks of me, but for what I think of myself.

As one grows weaker one is less susceptible to suffering. There is less hurt because there is less to hurt.

Too much is written by the men who can’t write about the men who do write.

A good joke will sell quicker than a good poem, and, measured in sweat and blood, will bring better remuneration.

There’s only one way to make a beginning, and that is to begin; and begin with hard work, and patience, prepared for all the dissapoint­ments.

Age is never so old as youth would measure it.

Desire is a pain which seeks easement through possession.

And how have I lived? Frankly and openly, though crudely. I have not been afraid of life. I have not shrunk from it. I have taken it for what it was at its own valuation. And I have not been ashamed of it. Just as it was, it was mine.

No; I did not hate him. The word is too weak. There is no word in the language strong enough to describe my feelings. I can say only that I knew the gnawing of a desire for vengeance on him that was a pain in itself and that exceeded all the bounds of language.

The word is too weak. There is no word in the language strong enough to describe my feelings.

I would rather be ashes than dust.

Fear urged him to go back, but growth drove him on.

I believe that when I am dead, I am dead. I believe that with my death I am just as much obliterated as the last mosquito you and I squashed.

As we grow our needs change, as does our perception of beauty.

When you see what the deficit is, then you have to do something about it.

Life can be fuckked upppp… but it sure is beautiful.

If all babies are so cute, how the hell do we have so many ugly people in the world?

Nothing is more beautiful in the eyes of God than a soul that loves to hear His Word.

The small man builds cages for everyone he knows While the sage, who has to duck his head when the moon is low, Keeps dropping keys all night long For the beautiful rowdy prisoners.

Every person thinks his own intellect perfect, and his own child handsome.

I decided to make a choice. And there is beauty in that – decision.