“I’ve noticed that about your people, Doctor. You find it easier to understand the death of one than the death of a million. You speak about the objective hardness of the Vulcan heart, yet how little room there seems to be in yours.”

Art functioning as propaganda is not art.

Find out what it is that touches you most deeply. Pursue it, learn about it, explore it, expand on it. Live with it and nurture it.

Insufficient facts always invite danger.

In general, we are sort of conditioned to see a different body type as acceptable and maybe look away when the other body type arrives.

In critical moments, men sometimes see exactly what they wish to see.

I’ve been working with photography for many years.

That is the exploration that awaits you! Not mapping stars and studying nebula, but charting the unknown possibilities of existence.

When you let me take I’m grateful. When you let me give I’m blessed.

Curious how often you Humans manage to obtain that which you do not want.

I consider myself more spiritual than religious.

Those who cannot hear an angry shout may strain to hear a whisper.

Whatever I have given, I have gained.

This time, there have been a lot of interesting discussions about the subject matter, and I’ve had a good time talking about it. And in some of the cases, I’m not just signing books – I’m showing slides and talking about the work

I’ve never understood the female capacity to avoid a direct answer to any question.

Without followers, evil cannot spread.

I began working with a family camera. It was called a Kodak Autographic, which was one of those things where you flopped it open and pulled out the bellows. And I’ve been at it ever since – I’ve never stopped.

Cities and Thrones and Powers Stand in Time’s eye, Almost as long as flowers, Which daily die.

From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.

For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

It is my dying wish to travel around the world; to feel this hurt in a slightly different way!

Sometimes even in pain we smile to the world until we think we’re dying.

One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

How surely are the dead beyond death. Death is what the living carry with them. A state of dread, like some uncanny foretaste of a bitter memory. But the dead do not remember and nothingness is not a curse. Far from it.

The broken worlds we hide inside; that’s how we start to die!