You name it and I've done it. I'd like to say I did it my way. But that line, I'm afraid, belongs to someone else.
The reason so many promises are not kept is the same as the reason they are made in the first place.
The extent to which we live from day to day, from week to week, intent on details and oblivious to larger presences, is a gauge of our impoverishment in time.
Fast drivers can see no further than slow drivers, but they must look further down the road to time their reactions safely. Similarly, people with great projects afoot habitually look further and more clearly into the future than people who are mired in day-to-day concerns.
True intimacy is a human constant. People of all types find it equally hard to achieve, equally precious to hold. Age, education, social status, make little difference here; even genius does not presuppose the talent to reveal one's self completely and completely absorb one's self in another personality. Intimacy is to love what concentration is to work: a simultaneous drawing together to attention and release of energy.
Happiness may well consist primarily of an attitude toward time.
At pains to define liberty, that most resolute of indefinables, our minds fall back on spatial images; on birds, sailboats, and mountains; the untethered balloon, the blue sky, the nude figure.
I wanted to show that your health is more important than your hair.
. . . you are battered and bruised in the collisions between reminiscence and reality.
I just feel rejuvenated in such a big way because of these race cars I get to drive.
I'm the baddest among the bad guys.