I was so mad you could have boiled a pot of water on my head.

The twisted circumstances under which we live is grist for the writing mill, the loving, hating and discovering, finding new handles for old pitchers . . .

Who wants to live with one foot in hell just for the sake of nostalgia Our time is forever now.

Where did we get the idea of insultin' folks by pointin' out their age? ... It seems that we think youth is some special accomplishment brought about by the individual himself!

Like snowflakes, the human pattern is never cast twice. We are uncommonly and marvelously intricate in thought and action, our problems are most complex and, too often, silently borne.

Some truth has no nourishment in it.

your soul is an inner something that is another you and hardly anybody knows what it's really thinkin' except you.