That's how myths are born. Out of our carelessness, out of our tattered nerves, out of jokes that go wrong and flashy gestures.

One day you will hear the sound of time rustling as it slips through your fingers like sand. Remember me then. I wish you luck.

The hardest thing of all is when pain is hidden behind a mask of calm.

Many years ago someone told me something that I flatly refused to accept. And I still don't accept it now, despite all the times I've seen it proved right. "The common good and the individual good rarely coincide..." Sure, I know, it's true. But some truths are probably worse than lies.

That's the hardest thing of all--never to become cynical, never to lose faith, never to become indifferent.

Experience is primarily the ability to restrain our fleeting impulses.

And the simple people are trash. A herd of sheep that are good for shearing, but sometimes it's more profitable to slaughter them.