I often find that people confuse inner peace with some sense of insensibility whenever something goes wrong. In such cases inner peace is a permit for destruction: The unyielding optimist will pretend that the forest is not burning either because he is too lazy or too afraid to go and put the fire out.

I've come to the point where I never feel the need to stop and evaluate whether or not I am happy. I'm just 'being', and without question, by default, it works.

I find it a challenge to cooperate in a society where it's considered moral to critique a résumé yet immoral to critique morality.

The love of conflict is most evident when opposing forces join sides to defeat the peacemaker.

There's nothing more contagious than the laughter of young children; it doesn't even have to matter what they're laughing about.

Like most arts, the link between the mind and the pen can chain you like an enslaved workaholic. Even on an intended vacation you suddenly have this killer urge to record whatever the vacation may teach.

I'm never proud of my old work. I always feel as though my skills have since improved.