I count myself lucky, having long ago won a lottery paid to me in seven sunrises a week for life.

To be happy, you must fancy that everything you have is a gift, and you the chosen, though you worked your tail off for every bit of it.

For every person you can trust, there was first a child who was trusted.

Politicians don't lie, they misspeak. And they don't steal, they mispocket.

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

There is a purpose to our lives that each day tugs at our sleeve as an annoying distraction.

Sometimes I wonder — if I were drop-dead handsome, and every woman I met actually dropped dead, would I ever get tired of it?