He is not guilty who is not guilty of his own free will.

Life, if well lived, is long enough.

Here's the truth you have to wrestle with: the reason that art (writing, engaging, leading, all of it) is valuable is precisely why I can't tell you how to do it. If there were a map, there'd be no art, because art is the act of navigating without a map. Don't you hate that? I love that there's no map.

I really believe things happen as they're supposed to and in the time that they're supposed to.

Be persistent, and hang on to your vision. And at the same time, be flexible.

You realize that we over-exaggerate yesterday, we over-estimate tomorrow and we underestimate today. We think, "Well, I'm going to kill time," "I'll get back to this tomorrow."

For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burden loads the day, And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.

Time doesn't stop. Your life doesn't stop and wait until you get ready to start living it.

Moving is both liberating and debilitating. Undertaken too late, it is a very stressful process, one that sometimes seems to catapult people into frail old age, and undertaken too soon, it may preempt other possibilities.

It is my mind which thinks, and the judgement of my mind is the only searchlight that can find the truth. It is my will which chooses, and the choice of my will is the only edict I must respect.

The Romanticists did not present a hero as a statistical average, but as an abstraction of man's best and highest potentiality, applicable to and achievable by all men, in various degrees, according to their individual choices.

Some day, we shall stop and build a house, when we shall have gone far enough. But we do not have to hasten. The days before us are without end, like the forest.