Perhaps it is the language that chooses the writers it needs, making use of them so that each might express a tiny part of what it is.

All the scheming and plotting in the world won't result in something lasting, transcendent. Anything that's authentic, that's real, comes in the form of a gift. Even if by accident.

Human vocabulary is still not capable, and probably never will be of knowing, recognizing, and communicating everything that can be humanly experienced and felt.

Some people spend their entire lives reading but never get beyond reading the words on the page, they don't understand that the words are merely stepping stones placed across a fast-flowing river, and the reason they're there is so that we can reach the farther shore, it's the other side that matters.

I think we are blind. Blind people who can see, but do not see.

What kind of world is this that can send machines to Mars and does nothing to stop the killing of a human being?

This is how everyone has to begin, men who have never known a woman, women who have never known a man, until the day comes for the one who knows to teach the one who does not.

There are times when it is best to be content with what one has, so as not to lose everything.

Words were not given to man in order to conceal his thoughts.