And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn’t crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again...
The beginning of wisdom, as they say. When you’re seventeen you know everything. When you’re twenty-seven if you still know everything you’re still seventeen.
So in sum, what are we? We are the creatures that know and know too much. That leaves us with such a burden again we have a choice, to laugh or cry. No other animal does either. We do, depending on the season and the need.
It was in their friendship they just wanted to run forever, shadow and shadow.
I want your loves to be multiple. I don’t want you to be a snob about anything. Anything you love, you do it.
When you reach the stars, boy, yes, and live there forever, all the fears will go, and Death himself will die.
Beware the autumn people.
Those who don’t build must burn.
All of the good, weird stories I’ve written are based on things I’ve dredged out of my subconscious. That’s the real stuff. Everything else is fake.
God, here and there, makes madness a calling.
Reading is at the center of our lives. The library is our brain. Without the library, you have no civilization.
Life shoould be touched, not strangled. You’ve got to relax, let it happen at times, and at other move forward with it.
To everything there is a season. Yes. A time to break down, and a time to build up. Yes. A time to keep silence and a time to speak. Yes.
It was a great place to write a novel about book burning, in the library basement.
All you umpires, back to the bleachers. Referees, hit the showers. It’s my game. I pitch, I hit, I catch. I run the bases. At sunset, I’ve won or lost. At sunrise, I’m out again, giving it the old try.
Space travel is life-enhancing, and anything that’s life-enhancing is worth doing. It makes you want to live forever.
If you learn only methods, you’ll be tied to your methods, but if you learn principles you can devise your own methods.
I’m not really dying today. No person ever died that had a family. I’ll be around a long time. A thousand years from now, a whole township of my offspring will be biting sour apples in the gumwood shade.
Life is like underwear, should be changed twice a day.
Tell us again, for we forget, that work done without love is stillborn, mindless, and lost in the very hour of its deliverance.