When tea becomes ritual, it takes place at the heart of our ability to see greatness in small things.

When someone that you love dies..it's like fireworks suddenly burning out in the sky and everything going black.

With the exception of love, friendship and the beauty of Art, I don't see much else that can nurture human life.

In the end, I wonder if the true movement of the world might not be a voice raised in song.

We don't recognize each other because other people have become our permanent mirrors. If we actually realized this, if we were able to become aware of the fact that we are only ever looking at ourselves in the other person, that we are alone in the wilderness, we would go crazy.

To the rich, therefore, falls the burden of Beauty. And if they cannot assume it, then they deserve to die.

Don't worry Renee, I won't commit suicide and I won't burn a thing. Because from now on, for you, I'll be searching for those moments of always within never. Beauty, in this world.