Youth Is A Mortal Wound.

A Work That Intends To Be Art Must First Be Entertaining.

If You're So Afraid Of Your Imagination That You Stifle It, How Are You Going To Know God? How Can You Imagine Heaven?

Punch After Punch After Punch. February Is A Mean Bully. Nothing Could Be Worse - Except August.

Sometimes It Seemed To Him That His Life Was Delicate As A Dandelion. One Little Puff From Any Direction, And It Was Blown To Bits.

I Guess Real Maturity, Which Most Of Us Never Achieve, Is When You Realize That You're Not The Center Of The Universe.