Mary Schmich Quotes

The soul-sucking activity of TV-watching feels better when it is done with other souls.

Be nice to your siblings. They are your link to the past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Good art is art that allows you to enter it from a variety of angles and to emerge with a variety of views.

Do not read beauty magazines. They only make you feel ugly.

Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young.

Linda Tripp has shown that a true friend is an archivist, a biographer.

You can figure out who you were by which movies you loved when

Like many women my age, I am 28 years old.

When you're thinking, "Why do I have to eat Aunt Sue's casserole with potato chips crumbled on top again?" change that thought to "A couple of bites won't kill me."

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.

Thanksgiving without tension is like a Thanksgiving without turkey. It can be done, but it is not the norm.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. The older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

For some Chicago expats, food is the medicine that blunts the pain of separation.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they'll be gone for good.

On an average day, we allow ourselves the fiction that we own a piece of our workplace. That's part of what it takes to get the job done. Deeper down, we know it's all on loan.

Worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.

A line from one of my 1997 columns - 'Do one thing every day that scares you' - is now widely attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt, though I have yet to see any evidence that she ever said it and I don't believe she did. She said some things about fear, but not that thing.

Alcohol, contrary to instinct, is not the secret to happiness.

The secret to happiness, at Thanksgiving or any time, is to reframe obligation as opportunity. You don't have to spend Thanksgiving with your family. You get to.

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you'll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Do one thing every day that scares you... Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own... Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Here's a thing about the death of your mother, or anyone else you love: You can't anticipate how you'll feel afterward. People will tell you; a few may be close to right, none exactly right.

The movies we love and admire are to some extent a function of who we are when we see them.

The cell phone has transformed public places into giant phone-a-thons in which callers exist within narcissistic cocoons of private conversations. Like faxes, computer modems and other modern gadgets that have clogged out lives with phony urgency, cell phones represent the 20th Century's escalation of imaginary need. We didn't need cell phones until we had them. Clearly, cell phones cause not only a breakdown of courtesy, but the atrophy of basic skills.

Chicago is constantly auditioning for the world, determined that one day, on the streets of Barcelona, in Berlin's cabarets, in the coffee shops of Istanbul, people will know and love us in our multidimensional glory, dream of us the way they dream of San Francisco and New York.

I couldn't have foreseen all the good things that have followed my mother's death. The renewed energy, the surprising sweetness of grief. The tenderness I feel for strangers on walkers. The deeper love I have for my siblings and friends. The desire to play the mandolin. The gift of a visitation.

In twenty years you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

The Hunger Games' isn't for everybody. But neither is 'Anna Karenina.

Don't waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself. Remember compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Getting out of the house is the secret to staying alert through the droning hours leading up to the big meal, even if you don't go farther than 7-Eleven for another six-pack.

Books are like blankets, the mere sight of them around the house provides warmth and comfort. They are like mirrors, too, reflecting places I've been, phases I've been through, people I've loved or thought I did.

Every day each of us wakes up, reaches into drawers and closets, pulls out a costume for the day and proceeds to dress in a style that can only be called preposterous.

You can map your life through your favorite movies, and no two people's maps will be the same.

Reading is a discount ticket to everywhere.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

One thing you might want to learn before you attend the world's largest ukulele lesson is how to say ukulele.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Replace the words "have to" with "get to" and watch how the cold rain on your life changes to sunshine.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft

The secret to happiness, at Thanksgiving or any time, is to find pleasure in imperfection.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Opening day. All you have to do is say the words and you feel the shutters thrown wide, the room air out, the light pour in. In baseball, no other day is so pure with possibility. No scores yet, no losses, no blame or disappointment. No hangover, at least until the game's over.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

The first gay person I ever met was surely not the first gay person I ever met.

The Thanksgiving meal should not be treated as a grad school exam or an Olympic dive. Whatever you cook will be good enough - unless you make that Twinkie turkey stuffing we're suddenly hearing too much about.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary…what ever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.