If there were no nobodies, The somebodies would not have anybody, To convince that they were somebody, Except some other somebody, Who would not be convinced anyway.

I'm afraid my glass is no longer half full because I drank most of it.

Life is a process of continually reordering priorities.

Everything I do or say will be forgotten in a few short years. Yet how amazing and wonderful it is that somehow I still care, just simply care about whatever I do, and will probably do so until my dying moment.

How unfortunate it is to be constrained by what people might say at our funeral or on our gravestone.

How frustrating it is to be out-argued by someone you know is dead wrong but is more eloquent.

I feel that the only true security I have is my capacity, however limited, to love.