Where was it ever promised us that life on this earth can ever be easy, free from conflict and uncertainty, devoid of anguish and wonder and pain? Those who seek the folly of unrelieved 'happiness'-who fear moods, who shun solitude, who do not know the diginity of occasional depression-can find bliss easily enough: in tranquilizing pills, or in senility. The purpose of life is not to be happy.

Dogs are getting bigger, according to a leading dog manufacturer.

Words must surely be counted among the most powerful drugs man ever invented.

It is not that which is beautiful that pleases us, but that which pleases is is called beautiful.

Happiness, in the ancient, noble sense, means self-fulfillment—and is given to those who use to the fullest whatever talents God … bestowed upon them.

I never cease being dumbfounded by the unbelievable things people believe.

Everyone, in some small sacred sanctuary of the self, is nuts.