I assumed that looking back reminded older guys of what they had shot at and missed, the what-ifs, the good memories, the bad, the people left behind, the people who moved on.

I had always been a boy in this place, and many of the trees and rocks and streams had been old men when I knew them. Some had died. All had changed. I knew that. I had changed the most.

The world bein’ so small ain’t always a good thing for those of us who ain’t searchin’ for new and different stuff.

One of the worst things I’ve learned about getting older is that there seems to be more change that you don’t like than there was when you were younger and you can’t do nothin’ about it.

Just make sure the day doesn’t pass without sayin’ what’s in your heart. Sometimes you pass up those chances and they’re gone forever.

Our bird of hope was being denied the altitude it sought, just free enough to fly dangerously close to the reality of the treetops.

As an adult I had mastered the art of looking without seeing and listening without hearing and eating without tasting and maybe even existing without living.

Sometimes, you need to spit stuff out in words to get it better arranged in your head. I figure if you never talk about it, it just picks its own spot and lays there and festers.

What a wonderful sadness to miss the one you have loved forever, it seems, and know that she is waiting at home.

Memories with laughter are the best ones to keep.

Back home. What wonderful words. What a wonderful place.

Then hope unlooked-for came so suddenly to Eomer's heart, and with it the bite of care and fear renewed, that he said no more, but turned and went swiftly from the hall.

What most persons consider as virtue, after the age of 40 is simply a loss of energy.

They were written on cheap blue notebooks bought by poor women. I'm interested in folk tales in the way that medicine and magic in women's stories are all kind of combined.

Forget all the equipment, forget the music, at the end of the day it's just literally frequencies and their effects on your brain. That's what's everyone's essentially after.

The moral is obvious it is that great armaments lead inevitably to war.

would be better served by continuing to hold an ownership position in a pure-play sporting goods retailer rather than a retail conglomerate.

But then, in his lifetime, Halt had often ignored what was technically legal. Technicalities didn't appeal to him. All too often, they simply got in the way of doing the right thing.

In the end the listening exposes you even more than it exposes the people you're trying to listen to.

I clean my house, although I have help. I'm on the floor getting spots. I can't stand a dirty house. I'm a cleaning fanatic.

Prayer flies where the eagle never flew.