I journey to the east, where I have been told, there are men who have taught death some manners.

When I go to the shore, I take along the poems of Pablo Neruda. I suppose it's because the poems are simultaneously lush and ripe and kind of lazy, yet throbbing with life - like summer itself.

Never be afraid to love, not even when there's a chance you're not being loved in return.

Religion is not merely the opium of the masses, it's the cyanide.

Are you aware that rushing toward a goal is a sublimated death wish? It's no coincidence we call them 'deadlines.'

And what would our ideas of God, of religion, be like if they had come to us through the minds of women? Ever think of that?

I don't want to give the impression that I hold daily conversations with my household appliances, although my toaster is as old as Drew Barrymore and almost as talented.