We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another, unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, constellations.

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You are your own stories and therefore free to imagine and experience what it means to be human... And although you don't have complete control over the narrative - no author does, I can tell you - you could nevertheless create it.

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You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it. ― Robin Williams

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We work in the dark - we do what we can - we give what we have. Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art. - Henry James

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Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless. — Mother Teresa

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Life is a lot like jazz … it's best when you improvise. – George Gershwin

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One day posterity will remember these strange times, when ordinary common honesty was called courage.

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I have noticed even people who claim everything is predestined, and that we can do nothing to change it, look before they cross the road.

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The hardest thing to explain is the glaringly evident which everybody had decided not to see.

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From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.

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