It is no accident that propels people like us to Paris.

To have her here in bed with me, breathing on me, her hair in my mouth—I count that something of a miracle.

Words are loneliness.

Until we lose ourselves there is no hope of finding ourselves.

Of course you don't die. Nobody dies. Death doesn't exist. You only reach a new level of vision, a new realm of consciousness, a new unknown world.

If we have not found heaven within, it is a certainty we will not find it without.

We are all guilty of crime the great crime of not living life to the full. But we are all potentially free. We can stop thinking of what we have failed to do and do whatever lies within our power. What those powers that are in us may be no one has truly dared to imagine. That they are infinite we will realize the day we admit to ourselves that imagination is everything. Imagination is the voice of daring.