Almost without exception alcoholics are tortured by loneliness.

For the wise have always known that no one can make much of his life until self-searching has become a regular habit, until he is able to admit and accept what he finds, and until he patiently and persistently tries to correct what is wrong.

Because of our kinship in suffering, our channels of contact have always been charged with the language of the heart.

The temporary good is enemy to the permanent best.

Indecision with the passing of time becomes decision.

Nothing can be more demoralizing than a clinging and abject dependence upon another human being. This often amounts to the demand for a degree of protection and love that no one could possibly satisfy. So our hoped for protectors finally flee, and once more we are left alone - either to grow up or to disintegrate.

Pain is the touchstone of all growth