The greatest certainty in life is death. The greatest uncertainty is the time.

Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits.

Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.

There is an eagle in me that wants to soar.

Life is like an onion. You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.

Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.

Love your neighbor as yourself but don't take down your fence.

It is necessary ... for a man to go away by himself ... to sit on a rock ... and ask, 'Who am I, where have I been, and where am I going?

Let the gentle bush dig its root deep and spread upward to split the boulder.

Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings.

A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.

Some things may never change but other things can be so completely different that they make the things that don't change bearable.

You must make a counter-culture decision to focus on becoming more like Jesus. Otherwise, other forces like peers, parents, coworkers, and culture will try to mold you into their image.

It's unrealistic to think you can only have one good product. People are not that poor. They can buy what they want.

I'm on the verge of a total breakdown. Sciatica. Taxes. Cars. Fleas, possibly. It's an absurd existence.

True prayer is an awareness of our helpless need and an acknowledgment of divine adequacy.

I've just looked for ideas and great characters that I relate to and that I think I can offer something to the audience, and I no longer look at them as experiments or genre exercises at all.

You own a piece of me," he murmurs as he holds me afterward. "Good," I tell him. "And just so you know… I'm never giving it back.

Anything that we scientists can do to weaken the hold of religion, should be done and may, in fact, in the end, be our greatest contribution to civilization.

What joy have I in June's return? My feet are parched-my eyeballs burn, I scent no flowery gust; But faint the flagging zephyr springs, With dry Macadam on its wings, And turns me 'dust to dust.'

How can you stop writing?