I see that there will be no end to imperfection, or to doing things the wrong way. Even if you grow up, no matter how hard you scrub, whatever you do, there will always be some other stain or spot on your face or stupid act, somebody frowning.

Despite their cool poses they wear their cravings on the outside, like the suckers on a squid. They want it all.

Don't let the bastards grind you down.

I was horrified in high school by the fate of the hanged maids at the end of the Odyssey; it seemed unfair to me, even then.

The young habitually mistake lust for love, they're infested with idealism of all kinds.

As all historians know, the past is a great darkness, and filled with echoes. Voices may reach us from it; but what they say to us is imbued with the obscurity of the matrix out of which they come; and try as we may, we cannot always decipher them precisely in the clearer light of our day.

Time is not a thing that passes ... it's a sea on which you float.