As the fly bangs against the window attempting freedom while the door stands open, so we bang against death ignoring heaven.

Born a saint, die a sinner - born a sinner, die a saint.

When all is lost, ask the I.R.S. - they'll find something.

It's not a question of happiness, it's a requirement. Consider the alternative.

Conscience is the window of our spirit, evil is the curtain.

We may not always get what we want, but surely we will get what we deserve.

Why ask why? If it's raining it just is.