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I may be drunk, miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly

Always design a thing by considering it in its next larger context - a chair in a room, a room in a house, a house in an environment, an environment in a city plan

Collaboration equals innovation

It's the things I might have said that fester.

People generally listen with their ears, leaving their eyes free to wonder.

Slept, woke, slept, woke, miserable life.

There are better things ahead than any we leave behind.

Always design a thing by considering it in its next larger context - a chair in a room, a room in a house, a house in an environment, an environment in a city plan.

I hope everyone has an overwhelming sensation about my boobs, Because they are 3D and they look great.

Unity of the people can bring down any system.

So what's the right attitude? Humility. It doesn't matter how smart and successful and qualified you are, you simply don't know what you're doing. The good news is that nobody else does either, though some are foolish enough to think that they do (and that's why you can beat them).

A woman in love can't be reasonable - or she probably wouldn't be in love.

It's a metaphor, see: You put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don't give it the power to do its killing.

I enjoy looking at beautiful people, and I decided a while ago not to deny myself the simpler pleasures of existence.

There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered and all of this will have been for naught.

I fear oblivion. I fear it like the proverbial blind man who's afraid of the dark.

I'm on a roller coaster that only goes up.

A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward, and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy.... well.

Long and leanly muscular, he dwarfed the molded plastic elementary school chair he was sittng in. Mahogany hair, straight and short. He looked my age, maybe a year older, and he sat with his tailbone against the edge of the chair, his posture aggressively poor, on one hand in a pocket of dark jeans.

I am totally uninterested in, and unconvinced by, this whole, “Teenagers aren’t actually that smart” thing. Don’t tell teenagers how smart they are.