You have to own your days and name them, each one of them, every one of them, or else the years go right by and none of them belong to you.

A man who is not touched by the earthy lyricism of hot pastrami, the pungent fantasy of corned beef, pickles, frankfurters, the great lusty impertinence of good mustard is a man of stone and without heart.

You treat God like you treat any dangerous looney — keep him calm and stay on his good side.

You have to own your days and name them, each one of them, every one of them, or else the years go right by and none of them belong to you.