Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.
I consider fiction a very high-class form of lying. I enjoy and admire it enormously, but I don't think I'm very good at it.
I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.
I swear I will not dishonor my soul with hatred, but offer myself humbly as a guardian of nature, as a healer of misery, as a messenger of wonder, as an architect of peace.
It began in mystery, and it will end in mystery, but what a savage and beautiful country lies in between.
If a mind is just a few pounds of blood, urea, and electricity, how does it manage to contemplate itself, worry about its soul, do time-and-motion studies, admire the shy hooves of a goat, know that it will die, enjoy all the grand and lesser mayhems of the heart ?
For the longest time I didn't realize I was creative - I just thought I was strange.
There are no countries in the world less known by the British than those selfsame British Islands.
When my young men began the killing, my heart was hurt.
Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. . . I see the heavens open and Jesus standing at the right hand of God.
Once you have accepted yourself, it's so much easier to accept other people and their points of view.