Memories are powerful that way. They can bring a person back to another place and time and make them laugh or cry all over again.

Being forgiven is like having all the worst bits of yourself stuffed into a balloon and then having that balloon set free.

It’s funny how even when you’ve lived with someone your whole life, they can still surprise you.

Memories are what makes each person different.

Memories are powerful that way. They can bring back to another place and time and make them laugh or cry all over again.

There’s comfort in hearing a voice when the world is silent.

Everyone has a story - find yours!

It’s hard not to smile when you’re going eyeball to eyeball with a frosted chocolate cupcake.

Good storytellers are always ready for the next question.

They don’t have classes on bravery in middle school. If they did I’d have signed up. It would have been helpful to learn how to stare down what I feared most and not blink.

Eyes aren't good liars.

If you have faith in yourself you will never lick the dust of defeat in any ground

Evil is like a shadow. It follows you.

The highest priority you can have is education.

We all claim to worship the same God, so why don't we fellowship together? ... The only thing that keeps us from fellowshiping together are the church buildings, the organizations.

I think my grandmother saw my potential first. When I was young, I told her, 'I think I should get a job.' She said, 'No, just keep boxing.'

Fear was absolutely necessary. Without it, I would have been scared to death.

I deliberately returned slowly to training after Raphael was born and everything, apart from being bitten by a dog while out training in Monaco at the beginning of the year, has gone pretty well.

He started keeping a journal - had been, in fact, secretly doing so for some time: the furtive act of a deranged person.

Interest in the lives of others, the high evaluation of these lives, what are they but the overflow of the interest a man finds in himself, the value he attributes to his own being?.

Well, guess what, I’m Cuban! And no self-respecting Cuban man of the era would let his wife work.