I think someday you're going to be a great writer," he said. "But" he added maliciously, "first you'll have to suffer a bit. I mean really suffer, because you don't know what the word means yet. You only think you've suffered. You've got to fall in love first.

Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes.

The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.

At the bottom of every frozen heart there is a drop or two of love―just enough to feed the birds.

Day by day. No yesterdays and no tomorrows. The barometer never changes, the flag is always at half-mast.

Example moves the world more than doctrine. The great exemplars are the poets of action, and it makes little difference whether they be forces for good or forces for evil.

Those who are truly decrepit, living corpses, so to speak, are the middle-aged, middle-class men and woman who are stuck in their comfortable grooves and imagine that the status quo will least forever or else are so frightened it won't, that they have retreated into their mental bomb shelters to wait it out.