Without art; without paintings, books, sculpture and music, the human soul would be quite impenetrable, don't you think?

I wonder if music is the only expression of the soul that is not hopelessly compromised in communication.

Love is self-explanatory: the right person makes you feel well nigh immortal, vaccinating you with their affections. So long as you remain in their heart you are safe, or better than safe even, for a while at least. You are momentarily, in a state of grace.

I've known people whose faces rested naturally in a smile and I'm certain their lives were much different because of that.

Without art; without paintings, books, sculpture and music, the human soul would be quite impenetrable, don't you think?

Maybe other people are like mirrors that we see ourselves in; versions of ourselves that vary dramatically depending on the particular cut of glass.

Books aren’t just my defenses, the sandbags I use to fortify my position; they are also the building blocks of my soul, and I am the sum of all I read.