You Know what, sometimes it seems to me we've living in a world that fabricate for ourselves. We decide what's good and what isn't, we draw maps of meanings for ourselves...And then we spend our whole lives struggling with what we have invented for ourselves. The problems is that each of us has our own version of it, so people find it hard to understand each other

Other people can't make you see with their eyes. At the best they can only encourage you to use your own.

A man sees in the world what he carries in his heart.

It's not in the book or in the writer that readers discern the truth of what they read; they see it in themselves, if the light of truth has penetrated their minds.

And the best way to know who we are is often to find out how others see us.

He that has light within his own clear breast May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day: But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; Himself his own dungeon.

Don't be fooled. Charlie remembers things exactly the way he wants to remember them. I suppose we all do...And then we spend the rest of our lives basing the way we think about our families on what we THOUGHT happened--instead of what really did.

I still consider myself a little, fat kid from Hawaii.

When I first met the world, basically, or introduced myself to people, I was in 'Superbad,' and I feel the same way I felt promoting 'Superbad' in an underdog style that I feel promoting 'Moneyball.'

We are the ones who create the messes in our heads. It does not come from outside.

C. S. Lewis was getting at this idea when he wrote, If your thoughts and passions were directly present to me, like my own, without any mark of externality or otherness, how should I distinguish them from mine?…You may reply, as a Christian, that God (and Satan) do, in fact, affect my consciousness in this direct way without signs of "externality." Yes: and the result is that most people remain ignorant of the existence of both.

Happy or unhappy, families are all mysterious. We have only to imagine how differently we would be described - and will be, after our deaths - by each of the family members who believe they know us.