Facts are not interesting to me.

Too late, I found you can't wait to become perfect, you got to go out and fall down and get up with everybody else.

Putting out the stars and extinguishing the sun.

Who has more pockets than a magician? A boy. Whose pockets contain *more* than a magicians? A boy's.

Zest. Gusto. How rarely one hears these words used. How rarely do we see people living, or for that matter, creating, by them. Yet if I were asked to name the most important items in a writer's make-up, the things that shape his material and rush him along the road he wants to go. I would only warn him to look to his zest, see to his gusto.

Television is very dangerous. Because it repeats and repeats and repeats our disasters, instead of our triumphs.

We have everything we need to be happy, but we aren't happy. Something's missing.