Are we human because we gaze at the stars or do we gaze at the stars because we are human?

If it's true that every seven years each cell in your body dies and is replaced, then I have truly inherited my life from a dead man; and the misdeeds of those times have been forgiven, and are buried with his bones.

Even dreams, the most delicate and intangible of things, can prove remarkable difficult to kill.

I've learned over the years that everything is more or less the same amount of work, so you may as well set your sights high and try and do something really cool.

I suppose the point you grow up is the point you let the dreams go.

Life - and I don't suppose I'm the first to make this comparison - is a disease: sexually transmitted, and invariably fatal.

If you were to try and pick him out of a group of boys, you’d be wrong. He’d be the other one. Over at the side. The one your eye slipped over.