Perhaps that is our doom, our human curse, to never really know one another.

A man lies upon the floor, spreads his arms, and transforms himself into a ship of a thousand sails.

Perhaps God waits for us to be empty, so he may fill us with himself.

I didn't show up here to give your life purpose now that your life's over. That's up to you to figure out.

There are things that are too terrible to remember, and there are things that are almost too wonderful to recall.

The harder survival becomes, the more you want to pull together. And the more you want to pull together, the harder survival becomes.

Sarcasm doesn't appear to work on him. If that's true, I'm in trouble: It's my normal mode of communication.