Life doesn't revolve around youIt revolves around those you love

As I think therefore I amAm I more if I think more?

Coming down life's highwayAt ninety mile an hour I want to slideWith bad brakes and bald tiresInto my final parking space

Do your thoughts continue and repeat a cycle Seed, growth, bloom, and seed again

Thankful another tomorrow greetsAs I drink from cup of time And prepare to lock the door behind meand leave it to others

When you build a house You nail down memories Paint and stain the fabric of time

There is nothing to fearFrom your reflection

Life is the night skyAll the dots of stars are happiness

Each day is always breaking out anew Aspirations swirling round what you do

We learn and grow Always building on what we know

subway stations...passengers who token through life

I do not like to repeat successes I like to go on to other things.

Music is the language of soul

I am like a little pencil in God's hand. He does the writing. The pencil has nothing to do with it.

There is a form of literature that is a deed, and a form that is only talk, and the latter passes away like a conversation.

People of mediocre ability sometimes achieve outstanding success because they don't know when to quit.

Without fake tan I have the skin tones of a dead jellyfish.

Let us, above all, be clear that, without a convincing program of debt relief to start the new millennium, our objective of halving world poverty by 2015 will be only a pipe dream.

We may listen to our inner self-and still not know which ocean we hear roaring.

As a people, we know what we can do, we know how to do it, and we just want to get on with it. How? By ensuring that Canada's place in the world is one of influence and pride.

It is the maintenance of slavery by law in a state, not parallels of latitude, that makes its a southern state; and the absence of this, that makes it a northern state.