Girls. You never know what they're going to think.

Your heart, Bessie, is an autumn garage.

I don't even know what I was running for—I guess I just felt like it.

But don't tell me I'm not sensitive to beauty. That's my Achilles' heel, and don't you forget it. To me, everything is beautiful. Show me a pink sunset and I'm limp, by God.

Know your true measurements and dress your mind accordingly

I mean it's very hard to meditate and live a spiritual life in America. People think you're a freak if you try to.

But guilt is guilt. It doesn't go away. It can't be nullified. It can't even be fully understood, I'm certain - it's roots run too deep into private and long-standing karma. About the only thing that saves my neck when I get to feeling this way is that guilt is an imperfect form of knowledge. Just because it isn't perfect doesn't mean that it can't be used. The hard thing to do is to put it to practical use, before it gets around to paralyzing you.