Until we can sense a sacred quality in time we will not begin to have a fuller understanding of it.

Life is a process of continually reordering priorities.

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.

One of the small consolations of old age, if you are lucky, can be at least a partial recovery of innocence.

We all have the right to be wrong and be loved just the same.

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

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.