White Americans have a short memory.

At the halfway point of any drunken night, there is a moment when an Indian realizes he cannot turn back toward tradition and that he has no map to guide him toward the future.

If you care about something enough, it’s going to make you cry. But you have to use it. Use your tears. Use your pain. Use your fear. Get mad. Arnold, get mad.

You can't sustain [anger]. You become bitter. Nothing's going to change. Anger leads to resentment, then to spiking your orange juice, then to martyrdom.

When a glass sits on a table here, people don't wonder if it's half filled or half empty. They just hope it's good beer.

Humor was an antiseptic that cleaned the deepest of personal wounds.

The dream he needed most was the dream that frightened him more.