But more I cannot wish you Than to wish you find your love Your own true love this day.

A secretary is not a thing Wound by key, pulled by string. Her pad is to write in, And not spend the night in, If that's what you plan to enjoy.

I hear music Mighty fine music, The murmur of a morning breeze up there The rattle of the milkman on the stair Sure that's music.

When you see a guy reach for stars in the sky You can bet that he's doing it for some doll.

Somebody, somewhere Wants me and needs me And that's very wonderful to know.

Luck, be a lady tonight.

I string sounds together. But to string them I have to remember a bunch of old ones I heard somewhere and then juggle them into a new rhythm and shape.

How beautiful the days, They come and go.

Oh! to be loved by a man I respect, To bask in the glow of his perfectly understandable neglect.

A secretary is not a toy.

Brother, do you know a nicer occupation, Matter of fact, neither do I, Than standing on the corner Watching all the girls go by?

Environment is no one's property to destroy

The Glory of God is lost if the boundary is crossed

A society that does not correctly interpret and appreciate its past cannot understand its present fortunes and adversities and can be caught unawares in a fast changing world.

Make disciples. Surround them in the reality of the Trinity in a fellowship of disciples. Teach them to do everything Jesus says.

The customer is an object to be manipulated, not a concrete person whose aims the businessman is interested to satisfy.

For me, jazz will always be the soundtrack of the civil rights movement.

I have a different purpose in writing each novel. Some of them seem more similar than others, but the purposes are always different.

She'd thought love had something to do with happiness, but it turned out they were not even vaguely related. Love was closer to a need, no different from the need to eat, to breathe.

So long as it stays within the rules of the game, which is to say, engages in open and free competition without deception or fraud.

Her stillness was such a contrast to all the jumbled communication inside me that I suddenly felt what a tiresome fellow I was, always filling the air with the rattle of words and anxieties.