The world is not a rational place.

Longevity can't be the only test of love.

Fun, like champagne bubbles, can't completely fill you up.

When people's emotions are involved they don't want to listen.

I love Arkansas but I think Arkansas has its share of unlit minds.

It seems to me that a man who is incapable of humor is capable of cruelty.

I wondered if a blessing is still a blessing if it lasts for only a little while.

What do you know about sooner or later? Is a moment only a moment when you're in pain?

Keep in mind that life produces no maestros, only students of varying shades of ineptitude.

Why is it I'm always so quick to believe that people are thinking...believing the worst about me?

What is genius, anyway, if it isn't the ability to give an adequate response to a great challenge?

Look inside yourself and you'll find a world of things (a world of your own experiences)worth writing about.

And marking off time struck me as something like counting empty spaces—spaces you know can't ever be filled.

I was hooked on writing. I mean, where else can you get paid for sticking your nose into somebody else's business?

Experiencing life through a book can help you learn without all the pain of going through the experiences first hand.

I believe that love is better than hate. And that there is more nobility in building a chicken coop than in destroying a cathedral.

And taking care of somebody else made me feel good. Like discovering you're more than you thought you were. More even than you hoped to be.

Like the Bible tells us, when a man will lay down his life for a friend, well, then there ain't no greater love in this here world than that.

Even if you forget everything else I want you to always remember that you are a person of value, and you have a friend who loved you enough to give you his most valued possession.

A person's got to think, otherwise that person's no better than a trained seal balancing a ball on his nose. If only that seal could think, he'd know he was making a thousand children laugh.

Maybe...in a way, this coffee reminds me of something. Maybe...maybe only a philosopher or a mad man would make this connection, but it's a little like life. I mean it's powerful going down and that doesn't even take into account the aftertaste, which really takes getting used to.

It was like that. Sometimes I'd go for a period—days or weeks—without feeling the full sweep of my loss, and then as unexpected as a thunderclap, the realization would rip the protective coating from my senses. Maybe that's the way it is with trick knees and aging griefs. Totally pain free one moment and absorbingly painful the next.

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