On the whole I feel that life has treated me rather well, but I sometimes wonder how well have I treated life.

Ideals are great as long as they don't get in the way of what we want to do.

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

How often have I tried just hard enough so that I can then say to myself that I tried with the real purpose of assuaging my guilt about something I did not wish to succeed in the first place?

For some of us life is so fantastic we can't stand it.

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

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