Summer had come to sit on New York's face.

...language is not the frosting, it's the cake.

Our purpose is to consciously, deliberately evolve towards a wiser, more liberated and luminous state of being.

Choice. It's the word that allows yes and the word that makes no possible. It's the word that puts the free in freedom and takes obligation out of the mix. It's the word upon which adventure, exhilaration, and authenticity depend. It's the word that the cocoon whispers to the caterpillar.

I have always been a romantic, one of those people who believes that a woman in pink circus tights contains all the secrets of the universe.

The scientist keeps the romantic honest, and the romantic keeps the scientist human.

When two people meet and fall in love, there's a sudden rush of magic. Magic is just naturally present then. We tend to feed on that gratuitous magic without striving to make any more. One day we wake up and find that the magic is gone. We hustle to get it back, but by then it's usually too late, we've used it up. What we have to do is work like hell at making additional magic right from the start. It's hard work, but if we can remember to do it, we greatly improve our chances of making love stay.