[L]ove, having no geography, knows no boundaries.

I don't care what anybody says about me as long as it isn't true.

When the prisoner is brought down from Death Row he steps from the elevator directly into a "holding" room that adjoins the witness room. There are two cells in this "holding" room, two, in case it's a double execution. They're ordinary cells, just like this one, and the prisoner spends his last night there before his execu­tion in the morning, reading, listening to the radio, playing cards with the guards.

I believe more in the scissors than I do in the pencil.

Any work of art, provided it springs from a sincere motivation to further understanding between people, is an act of faith and therefore is an act of love.

[L]ove, having no geography, knows no boundaries.

That's not writing, that's typing