The choice you make, between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.

Powerful people have no regrets.

I know now that when the loving, honest moment comes it should be seized, and spoken, because it may never come again. And unvoiced, unmoving, unlived in the things we declare form heart to heart, those true and real feelings wither and crumble in the remembering hand that tries too late to reach for them.

I think that it is a part of growing up, learning to control our suffering. I think that when we grow up, and learn that happiness is rare, and passes quickly, we become disillusioned and hurt. And how much we suffer is a mark of how much we have been hurt by this realisation. Suffering, you see, is a kind of anger. We rage against the unfairness, the injustice of our sad and sorry lot.

We have a saying in Marseilles: a man in no hurry gets nowhere fast. I have been in no hurry for eight years.

Friendship is an Algebra test that nobody passes.

Sometimes you break your heart in the right way, if you know what I mean.