Today more people believe in UFOs than believe that Social Security will take care of their retirement.

A brand is no longer what we tell the consumer it is - it is what consumers tell each other it is.

Mutual funds were created to make investing easy, so consumers wouldn't have to be burdened with picking individual stocks.

Fifty years ago wealth was stored and transmitted physically through gold bars, stock certificates, bank notes, and coins.

So I think instead of focusing on the competition, focus on the customer.

Be dramatically willing to focus on the customer at all costs, even at the cost of obsoleting your own stuff.

Even the once simple home mortgage now has so many flavors and styles and variations that it is difficult for people to make a decision.

Before 1980, it was basically illegal for U.S. banks to invent new products.

The changing nature of money is only one facet of the financial services revolution.

QuickBooks - the very fact that we could even dream to make something in the business arena, and that it would then succeed - was a total revolution to me.

Subsequent to the original Quicken, the whole idea that we, as a consumer products company, could actually make business products, that was a whole revolution in our thinking.

He who would make serious use of his life must always act as though he had a long time to live and schedule his time as though he were about to die.

Sometimes I'll say, wow, that's going be a great story, and I get killed.

Who dares not speak his free thoughts is a slave.

Alex loved books. He was the one who first introduced me to poetry. That's another reason I can't read anymore.

My childhood taught me nothing... zero.

When I want to read something nice, I sit down and write it myself.

God is not hostile to sinners, but only to unbelievers.

When you are young your imagination is so clear.

I've never had to spend any time in the VA hospital, so I really can't speak for those guys.

Now the dark air is like fire on my skin, And even the moonlight is blinding