Death is the king of this world: ‘Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.

Write down the thoughts of the moment. Those that come unsought for are commonly the most valuable.

Just write every day of your life. Read intensely. Then see what happens. Most of my friends who are put on that diet have very pleasant careers.

All the music that was ever heard came from the inner silence in every musician.

My improvisations are a beguiling mixture of the vertical and the horizontal.

Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.

International terrorism is throwing down a challenge, and not just to Russia.

To jaw-jaw is always better than to war-war.

This is not new territory. Stop lights like lullabies write my eulogy.

I say beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes.

Better a broken promise than none at all.

The more you know, the less you need.

The Russian parliament has condemned the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.

It didn’t take very many forces to destroy huge numbers of natives, not so much because the technology was better, but because the Europeans fought differently. If we were to be honest about the history, we would describe European colonialism simply as a barbarian invasion.

We don’t use the term “working class” here because it’s a taboo term. You’re supposed to say “middle class,” because it helps diminish the understanding that there’s a class war going on.

Vanity is as ill at ease under indifference as tenderness is under a love which it cannot return.

If we speak calmly, in a businesslike fashion, let me draw your attention to the fact that Russia supplies arms to the legitimate government of Syria in full compliance with the norms of international law. We are not breaching any rules and norms.

When I see something I like, I buy it, but I do not look for it madly.

When I am old, weather-worn, and grey, I want to fill my lungs with your perfume and hear your laughter echo through our home as we dance alone in our living room, drunk off wine, still madly in love.

When I was a kid I used to hide behind the curtains at home at Christmas and I used to try and be Elvis. There was a certain ambience between the curtains and the French windows, there was a certain sound there for a ten-year-old. That was all the ambience I got at ten years old…I think!

Sometimes it’s to your advantage for people to think you’re crazy.