A lament in one ear, maybe, but always a song in the other

When it was dark, you always carried the sun in your hand for me.

The wide wonder of Broadway is disconsolate in the daytime; but gaudily glorious at night, with a milling crowd filling sidewalk and roadway, silent, going up, going down, between upstanding banks of brilliant lights, each building braided and embossed with glowing, many-coloured bulbs of man-rayed luminance. A glowing valley of the shadow of life. The strolling crowd went slowly by through the kinematically divine thoroughfare of New York.

If church prelates, past or present, had even an inkling of physiology they'd realize that what they term this inner ugliness creates and nourishes the hearing ear, the seeing eye, the active mind, and energetic body of man and woman, in the same way that dirt and dung at the roots give the plant its delicate leaves and the full-blown rose.

All the world's a stage and most of us are desperately unrehearsed.

It's my rule never to lose me temper till it would be detrimental to keep it.

When one has reached 81... one likes to sit back and let the world turn by itself, without trying to push it.