I like something warm under the covers. Books are cold comfort.
The receding wave does not despair; it knows it will rise again.
The censors will never approve of you so you might as well do what you like.
Know yourself? Why not forget yourself instead?
No explanation is ever as good as not having one.
Is humanity a lost cause? History seems to say so.
It is loving things for their own sake that makes them beautiful.
Who gave fire permission to burn?
Pronounce these words slowly: forsythia, magnolia, azalea, redbud. Spring: it’s not a fantasy, it’s real.
If there’s an easier, more efficient way to do something, trust a lazy person to find it.
Always expecting to get what you want is expecting too little of life.
To the purist, everything is impure.
Fear of boredom is the most scathing self-criticism.
Frailty, thy name is human!
What one does to kill time is one’s true calling.
Everyone’s truth is their own life.
There is nothing to say, and the proof is all the books in the world.
Before you speak your mind make sure it’s really your mind you’re speaking.
Writing is just another trap if you take it too seriously.
Cynic: a dead man walking.
Art should be pretentious. The place to be sincere is in one’s relationships.