It is a rare woman who can overcome her desire to remain pretty and allow herself to become beautiful.
There is a child in every one of us who is still a trick-or-treater looking for a brightly-lit front porch.
There are times when you seek your solitude, and your solitude just wants to be left alone.
I nod to a passing stranger, and the stranger nods back, and two human beings go off, feeling a little less anonymous.
I've lived enough of my life story to know this- Fate writes the book, but you make the movie.
Among those born into chaos, some will imagine an order and become scientists; a few will recognize the chaos and become abstract artists; most others will turn to faith for understanding; and the rest will become lost souls.
Two things are owed to truthfulness: lasting marriages and short friendships.
One must look hard through history to find when a clear understanding of the truth moved anyone to fire the first shot.
Often, what seems an impossible climb is just a staircase without the steps drawn in.
We are each a dozen people who were all the same child.
One day you just say "To heck with it," and you go looking for trouble, and you find happiness.
If there be no God, then what is truth but the average of all lies.
For every "Drive Safely" sign, shouldn't there be a "Resume Normal Driving" sign?
Never ask, "What reason do I have to be happy?" Instead ask, "To what purpose can I attach my happiness?
There was never a wise saying that couldn't be made wiser by adding the words, "and vice-versa.
A bottle of wine Still to be drunk, A bundle of thoughts Still to be thunk.
A nod, a bow, and a tip of the lid to the person who coulda and shoulda and did.
No matter how you hurry, you will notice at the end of the day that you traveled at the speed of time.
On a windswept hill by a billowing sea, my destiny sits and waits for me.
Nature decrees that we do not exceed the speed of light. All other impossibilities are optional.
Few can accept happiness if it means change. We want the life we have now, only happier.
Does a rose exist that I might behold it? Or do I exist that a rose might be beheld?
Art is an attempt to understand, yielding pleasure in the attempt whether or not we understand.
I don't know that there are haunted houses. I know that there are dark staircases and haunted people.
Shall I redirect my life's journey because down some side road might be some trifle I'm entitled to?
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