We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing.

The past is never dead. It’s not even past.

I want to be improbable and beautiful and afraid of nothing as if I had wings.

To stand still is the cruelest exile.

“The heart, like the mind, has a memory. And in it are kept the most precious keepsakes.”

Look! These are just the fringes of his ways; Only a faint whisper has been heard of him!

In the quiet before the day begins in Santa Fe, Today truth stirs like restless horses.

We went looking for a fix and found a little more of ourselves instead.