My vocal cords lived their own life, wild and free.

A "critic" is a man who creates nothing.

The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out of it alive.

I scrolled on down to the obituaries. I usually read the obituaries first as there is always the happy chance that one of them will make my day.

To get anywhere, or even to live a long time, a man has to guess, and guess right, over and over again, without enough data for a logical answer.

The basic of all morality is duty, a concept with the same relation to group that self-interest has to individual.

One man's theology is another man's belly laugh.