There is no point in trying to remember your dreams ... There is only the unspeakable joy of eavesdropping on your spirit, catching tiny glimpses of its independent life, resting for a moment in its wisdom, puzzling, laughing sometimes, over what it's up to, what it makes of you.

What's so good about a heaven where, one of these days, you're going to get your embarrassing old body back?

We are not afraid to look under the bed, or to wash the sheets; we know that life is messy. We know that somebody has to clean it up, and that only if it is cleaned up can we hope to start over, and get better.

Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.

Art is how a culture records its life, how it poses questions for the next generation and how it will be remembered.

Music expresses longing and love and joy better than any piece of dialogue you can ever write.

People listen to music with cavemen ears: Is it a bird song or the call of a lion? The audience at a musical is dancing in their hearts.