Here's to the man who rode the race, who took the time, who kept the time, and who did the trick.

The canter is a cure for every evil.

All power is a trust, that we are accountable for its exercise.

The indulgence in grief is a blunder.

There is anguish in the recollection that we have not adequately appreciated the affection of those whom we have loved and lost.

A realist is a man who insists on making the same mistakes his grandfather did.

Nature has given us two ears but only one mouth.