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I used to think information was destroyed in black hole. This was my biggest blunder, or at least my biggest blunder in science.

Not only do I not drive, I don't have my driver's license; there's a story there, but the upshot is that I spent my high school years an ardent environmentalist and workout junkie who wanted to save the environment, burn calories, and have my boyfriends drive me around.

Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.

What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step.

I know that my look is more 'toothpaste model' as opposed to artsy, which sucks because I can play those roles.

Let's start with the church. As you know, it's my background, it's a natural setting for me and it's definitely my roots.

We journalists make it a point to know very little about an extremely wide variety of topics; this is how we stay objective.

It is one thing to praise discipline, and another to submit to it.

Fuck You Poem #45 Fuck you in slang and conventional English. Fuck you in lost and neglected lingoes. Fuck you hungry and sated; faded, pock marked, and defaced. Fuck you with orange rind, fennel and anchovy paste. Fuck you with rosemary and thyme, and fried green olives on the side. Fuck you humidly and icily. Fuck you farsightedly and blindly. Fuck you nude and draped in stolen finery. Fuck you while cells divide wildly and birds trill. Thank you for barring me from his bedside while he was ill. Fuck you puce and chartreuse. Fuck you postmodern and prehistoric. Fuck you under the influence of opiun, codeine, laudanum, and paregoric. Fuck every real and imagined country you fancied yourself princess of. Fuck you on feast days and fast days, below and above. Fuck you sleepless and shaking for nineteen nights running. Fuck you ugly and fuck you stunning. Fuck you shipwrecked on the barren island of your bed. Fuck you marching in lockstep in the ranks of the dead. Fuck you at low and high tide. And fuck you astride anyone who has the bad luck to fuck you, in dank hallways, bathrooms, or kitchens. Fuck you in gasps and whispered benedictions. And fuck these curses, however heartfelt and true, that bind me, till I forgive you, to you.

Why do people always assume that volume will succeed when logic won’t? - Damon

Men live their lives trapped in an eternal present, between the mists of memory and the sea of shadow that is all we know of the days to come.

It's sometimes comical to hear the younger generation ask their peers to repeat themselves.

Somebody who knows what they're doing, who has a good track record, they come across as very articulate, bright and looking for a challenge - that's absolutely my kind of hire.

I have a flirtatious personality.

A drone is a high-tech version of an old army and a musket. It ought to be used in Somalia to hunt bad guys, but not in America. I don't want to see it hovering over anybody's home.

Music has always been my back door to life. It is important for people to find something that excites them. I like the concept that if you do what excites you, you will be rewarded generously, whatever form reward takes, which is not necessarily money.

If an Arab in the desert were suddenly to discover a spring in his tent, and so would always be able to have water in abundance, how fortunate he would consider himself; so too, when a man who ... is always turned toward the outside, thinking that his happiness lies outside him, finally turns inward and discovers that the source is within him.

Talent, like beauty, to be pardoned, must be obscure and unostentatious.

If you start to disrespect the character you're playing, or play it too much for laughs, that can work for a sketch, it will sell some gags, but it's all technique. It's like watching a juggler - you can be impressed by it, but it's not going to touch you in any way.

We need words to name and designate things. But we have only a static language with which to express ourselves.