Men are liars. We'll lie about lying if we have to. I'm an algebra liar. I figure two good lies make a positive.

Electricity can be dangerous. My nephew tried to stick a penny into a plug. Whoever said a penny doesn't go far didn't see him shoot across that floor. I told him he was grounded.

Women now have choices. They can be married, not married, have a job, not have a job, be married with children, unmarried with children. Men have the same choice we've always had: work, or prison.

I have to get a licence to drive a motorcycle to protect myself and the people around me. I am adamant there should be some sort of licensing required to have children.

A guy knows he's in love when he loses interest in his car for a couple of days.

If you don't decide where you're going, life will decide for you.

Sometimes you get the sense that the Creator is getting to that point of "Yeah, we might have to reboot."

My mom said the only reason men are alive is for lawn care and vehicle maintenance.

Real men don't use instructions, son. Besides, this is just the manufacturer's opinion on how to put this together.

I'm a creative guy, artistically with graphics.

Jill, we became parents so we could tell our kids what to do. Otherwise we're just the tallest people living here.

Ponder now by thyself, how great fruit of wickedness the grain of evil seed had brought forth. And when the ears shall be cut down, which are without number, how great a floor shall they fill?

Mental clarity ain't for the faint of heart.

I'm not very cool. I have a really hard time meeting people and stuff.

I have the courage of my convictions.

The other thing that I love too is the enthusiasm of the QVC customer. She loves fashion, she loves looking great, and she loves discovering something new.

He who obeys God's laws finds him a father. He who disobeys them, finds him a judge.

We are all part and parcel of one country. And that country is of love.

Faith and love are apt to be spasmodic in the best minds: Men live on the brink of mysteries and harmonies into which yet they never enter, and with their hand on the doorlatch they die outside.

Accumulate power in silence and become a dynamo of spirituality.

Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?