It ended sadly. The kind of ending where you wait together, holding hands and weeping, while off in another room, love slowly dies.

After all, there are those people we like and dislike, there are those people we love, and then there are those we recognize. These are the unbreakable connections.

Once upon a time, when I was young, his forgetting might have rendered my memory meaningless. I no longer require so much from life.

He remembers what I forget and I remember what he forgets. It's too late for either of us to make another old friend.

Napping is divine, but I no longer have all the time in the world.

It is not our right to punish one for thinking as he does, no matter how much we disagree.

Saul's vitals were not human, but familiar:he never told me he was from another world:I never told him I was from his future.

She wasn't blotto, she was plotting.

Talent works for money and fame; the motive which moves genius to productivity is, on the other hand, less easy to determine.

I would never commit the positively anti-social action of robbing a bank, or worse still, working in one.

Musically, I would never run dry. Any time I sit down to an instrument, I could write a song.

Rancor is an outpouring of a feeling of inferiority.

After all that, you would think daughter would want to spend time with me, but she's busy. I get it.

I want to be remembered like Pete Rose. 'Charlie Hustle.' I want people to say, 'Wherever he was, he was always giving it his all.

They aren't kidding when they say, "Wash Whites separately.