San Francisco is gone. Nothing remains of it but memories.

If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets.

When someone is impatient and says, ‚I haven’t got all day,‘ I always wonder, How can that be? How can you not have all day?

My father had died, and very swiftly, too, of cancer of the esophagus. He was 79. I am 61. In whatever kind of a ‚race‘ life may be, I have very abruptly become a finalist.

The best place to find God is in a garden. You can dig for him there.

My one big regret is that I didn’t play on for ten more years.

Thirty was so strange for me. I’ve really had to come to terms with the fact that I am now a walking and talking adult.

I have thought there was some advantage even in death, by which we mingle with the herd of common men.

What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined – to strengthen each other – to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.

The virtues are lost in self-interest as rivers are lost in the sea.

In the business world, the rearview mirror is always clearer than the windshield.

Darn the wheel of the world! Why must it continually turn over? Where is the reverse gear?

Anyone who doesn’t have a great time in San Francisco is pretty much dead to me.

I can’t remember what made my dad take us karting for the first time, I can’t remember really. I was into motorsport by then and I knew everything, and every driver, it was around 2009, 2008. That’s when I first properly knew about Formula One. Those were the days.

In ‚Changeling,‘ I tried to show something you’d never see nowadays – a kid sitting and looking at the radio. Just sitting in front of the radio and listening. Your mind does the rest.

Our necessities never equal our wants.

When a man fell into his anecdotage it was a sign for him to retire from the world.

The pause between the errors and trials of the day and the hopes of the night.

Silence is golden when you can’t think of a good answer.

If one way be better than another, that you may be sure is nature’s way.

Every man’s memory is his private literature.

Become aware of your own insufficiency.

It seems, in fact, as though the second half of a man’s life is made up of nothing, but the habits he has accumulated during the first half.

Only when the tide goes out do you discover who’s been swimming naked.

Christmas is a tonic for our souls. It moves us to think of others rather than of ourselves. It directs our thoughts to giving.

How great is the mystery of the first cells which were one day animated by the breath of our souls! How impossible to decipher the welding of successive influences in which we are forever incorporated! In each one of us, through matter, the whole history of the world is in part reflected.

It’s a big compliment that so many people want to see me. For them, it’s all about football. That’s what they remember about me.

I was brought up to try to see what was wrong and right it. Since I am a writer, writing is how I right it.

What is this world that is hastening me toward I know not what, viewing me with contempt?

This world, after all our science and sciences, is still a miracle wonderful, inscrutable, magical and more, to whosoever will think of it.

Sweet is the memory of past troubles.

Upon the creatures we have made, we are, ourselves, at last, dependent.

Shall I, that have destroyed my Preservers, return home?

The mind of the painter must resemble a mirror, which always takes the colour of the object it reflects and is completely occupied by the images of as many objects as are in front of it.

When they set off for their first day at their new school, I will never forget that winter morning as I watched our girls, just 7 and 10 years old, pile into those black SUVs with all those big men with guns.

All of my walls are covered with framed pictures of my friends.

She would have thrived as a grandmother. I know how much she would have contributed to their lives, and I am sad they will miss out on that.

Thank God, I never was cheerful. I come from the happy stock of the Mathers, who, as you remember, passed sweet mornings reflecting on the goodness of God and the damnation of infants.

For most of us, wisdom is acquired in the thicket of experience and usually meets us somewhere along the way if we live long enough. But sooner is better than later.

History will point out some of the things I did wrong and some of the things I did right.

Except for the young or very happy, I can’t say I am sorry for anyone who dies.

I always say this about my music, and music in general: Music is like a time capsule. Each album reflects what I’m going through or what’s going on in my life at that moment.

It is often said that before you die your life passes before your eyes. It is in fact true. It’s called living.

Over the years I’ve seen people lose a spouse and then withdraw and lose interest in life, and I believe we need to resist that.

The nice thing is that when people come up to me, it’s the football they remember, not all the other rubbish.

Cry if you have a compound fracture, by all means. Or if your grandpa died. But otherwise, save it for your pillow.

History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.

I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. ‚Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but they whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves their conduct, will pursue their principles unto death.

As a remedy to life in society I would suggest the big city. Nowadays, it is the only desert within our means.

This isn’t life in the fast lane, it’s life in the oncoming traffic.

No face which we can give to a matter will stead us so well at last as the truth. This alone wears well.

Growing old has been the greatest surprise of my life.

I do sometimes look back at things I’ve written in the past, and think, ‚I just don’t remember being the person who wrote that.‘

How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!

Life is the childhood of our immortality.

He who learns but does not think, is lost! He who thinks but does not learn is in great danger.

I like to reminisce with people I don’t know.

Last year we said, ‚Things can’t go on like this‘, and they didn’t, they got worse.

We might as well die as to go on living like this.

Philosophy is common sense with big words.

Each day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death.