And like most middle-aged people who hear the clock ticking in their lives, I had come to resent a waste or theft of my time that was greater than any theft of my goods or money.

When people make a contract with the devil and give him an air-conditioned office to work in, he doesn't go back home easily.

That's one of the great advantages of age. You can say, I don't want to, I don't care, you can throw temper tantrums, and nobody minds.

Every rejection is incremental payment on your dues that in some way will be translated back into your work.

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?

A lie is an act of theft. It steals peoples faith and makes them resent themselves

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.