While I occasionally enjoy a bout of nostalgia, I would generally rather dream forward than backward.

It's not that perfection cannot be achieved. It's that it's so hard to stop there.

We have a choice every day — to act on yesterday's good intentions or get an early start on tomorrow's regrets.

If God had intended us to be alone, there would be more pleasure in massaging our own shoulders.

I've lived enough of my life story to know this- Fate writes the book, but you make the movie.

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

There are truths of which I have an inkling, but of most I have only a pencilling