The compelling thing about making art - or making anything, I suppose - is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid there, a thing, a substance in a world of substances.

It was silly, wasn't it? But the singing made it not silly.

He said something interesting: he said that he thinks there is only free will when you are in time, in the present. He says in the past we can only do what we did, and we can only be there if we were there.

It's funny how we like labels. If I ever have a bookstore, I'm not going to put any labels on the sections.

Everything seems simple until you think about it.

one of the best and the most painful things about time traveling has been the opportunity to see my mother alive.

Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is where the heart is. But my heart is here. So I must be home. Clare sighs, turns her head, and is quiet. Hi, honey. I'm home. I'm home.