Let us fill a cup and drink to that most noble, ridiculous, laughable, sublime figure in our lives...The Young Man Who Was. Let us drink to his dreams, for they were rainbow-colored; to his appetites, for they were strong; to his blunders, for they were huge; to his pains for they were sharp; to his time for it was brief; and to his end, for it was to become one of us.

The Christian church is an encyclopaedia of prehistoric cults and conceptions of the most diverse orgiin and that is why it is so capable of proselytising: it always could and it can still go wherever it pleases and it always found and it always finds something similar to itself to which it can adapt itself and gradually impose upon it a Christian meaning.

Friedrich Nietzsche

I love science fiction.

Pam Grier

When one has no character, one HAS to apply a method. Here it did wonders incontrovertibly, and I am living on the site of one of the greatest crimes in human history.

Albert Camus

To light one candle to God and another to the Devil is the principle of wisdom.

Jose Bergamin

The more I see of the moneyed classes, the more I understand the guillotine.

George Bernard Shaw

Traditional science assumes, for the most part, that an objective observer independent reality exists the universe, stars, galaxies, sun, moon and earth would still be there if no one was looking.

Deepak Chopra

Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.

Henry David Thoreau

No man's brain is so dull, and no man's eye so blind, that they cannot catch food for dreams.

Donald G. Mitchell

What I am is how I came out. No one's perfect and you just have to accept your flaws and learn to love yourself.

Kelly Brook

Having your fiscal house in order and having a more manageable macro-economic future is going to be very useful in creating growth.

Fareed Zakaria

There are few people who are more often in the wrong than those who cannot endure to be so.

Francois de La Rochefoucauld

We had a little slave boy whom we had hired from some one, there in Hannibal. He was from the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and had been brought away from his family and his friends, half way across the American continent, and sold. He was a cheery spirit, innocent and gentle, and the noisiest creature that ever was, perhaps. All day long he was singing, whistling, yelling, whooping, laughing - it was maddening, devastating, unendurable. At last, one day, I lost all my temper, and went raging to my mother, and said Sandy had been singing for an hour without a single break, and I couldn't stand it, and wouldn't she please shut him up.The tears came into her eyes, and her lip trembled, and she said something like this - 'Poor thing, when he sings, it shows that he is not remembering, and that comforts me; but when he is still, I am afraid he is thinking, and I cannot bear it. He will never see his mother again; if he can sing, I must not hinder it, but be thankful for it. If you were older, you would understand me; then that friendless child's noise would make you glad.' It was a simple speech, and made up of small words, but it went home, and Sandy's noise was not a trouble to me any more.

Mark Twain