They can't hurt me. Sure, they can crush you and kill you. They can lay you out on 42nd and Broadway and put hoses on you and flush you in the sewers and put you on the subway and carry you out to Coney island and bury you on the Ferris wheel. But I refuse to sit here and worry about dying.

Your mind is a your temple, keep it beautiful and free. Don't let an egg get laid in it by something you can't see.

It's not a house, it's a home.

Every cause that ever I fought, I fought it full without regret or shame.

Each one of them suffering from the failures of their day, with strings of guilt they tried hard to guide us.

Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them.

I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans.