I wish to die knowing that I took a fleeting instant of eternity and fashioned from it a lifetime.

I have fancied myself a rebel, but at every critical moment of my life, I have been exactly the child my parents raised.

If God had wanted to be a big secret, He would not have created babbling brooks and whispering pines.

The verdict is still out on my life, the judge having not yet instructed the jury, both of whom are me.

There is no effect more disproportionate to its cause than the happiness bestowed by a small compliment.

If I had my life to live over, I'd have fewer meetings and more rendezvous.

If I choose abstraction over reality, it is because I consider it the lesser chaos.