Happiness is a myth. It was invented to make us buy new things.

There's no believing in God...We either know God, or we don't.

The cloak of the past is cut from patches of feeling ,and sewn with rebus threads.Most of the time , the best we can do is wrap it around ourselves for comfort or drag it behind us as we struggle to go on .

Men reveal what they think when they look away, and what they feel when they hesitate. With women, it's the other way around

The best revenge, like the best sex, is performed slowly, and with the eyes open.

I don't know what frightens me more, the power that crushes us, or our endless ability to endure it.

It isn't a secret, unless keeping it hurts.