Money can't buy happiness but it'll sure keep a mess of grief off your front porch.

Don't let anyone tell you that age purchases your freedom from fear of death.

I used to save all my rejection slips because I told myself, one day I'm going to autograph these and auction them. And then I lost the box.

The story of Ulysses and Agamemnon and Menelaus, of Jesus, of the Good Knight of Chaucer, lives in every one of us.

If we break promises to God, shouldn't we be allowed an occasional violation of our word to our friends and superiors?

If there is any human tragedy, there is only one, and it occurs when we forget who we are and remain silent while a stranger takes up residence inside our skin.

Is there a design in the events of our lives? Or do things just happen, much like a junk yard falling down a staircase? If it's the latter, how do you deal with it?