If you want your tree to produce plenty o' fruit, you've got to cut it back from time to time. Same thing with your neural cells. Some people might call it brain damage. I call it prunin'.

Hard times and funky living can season the soul, true enough, but joy is the yeast that makes it rise.

The mission of the artist in an over-technologi zed society, is to call the old magic back to life.

Funny how we think of romance as always involving two, when the romance of solitude can be ever so much more delicious and intense.

Human folly does not impede the turning of the stars.

That's the way the mind works: the brain is genetically disposed towards organization, yet if not controlled, will link even the most imagerial fragment to another on the flimsiest pretense and in the most freewheeling manner, as if it takes a kind of organic pleasure in creative association, without regards to logic or chronological sequence.

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