The road must eventually lead to the whole world.

Maybe that's what life is... a wink of the eye and winking stars.

Practice kindness all day to everybody and you will realize you're already in heaven now.

Great things are not accomplished by those who yield to trends and fads and popular opinion.

Put down the pen someone else gave you. No one ever drafted a life worth living on borrowed ink.

I saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page and I could do anything I wanted.

He had no place he could stay in without getting tired of it and because there was nowhere to go but everywhere, keep rolling under the stars.

Everything is ecstasy inside. We just don't know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind [it] is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever.

It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on.

Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don't be sorry.

You can't teach the old maestro a new tune.

The clipping said forgiveness meant that God is for giving, and that we are here for giving too, and that to withold love or blessings is to be completely delusional.

My father still is a lawyer, and my mom was a teacher and then later a career counselor.

Of course I was delighted the flight was over, but I still had to worry about cleaning up inside the cabin, I had to worry about the hatch, how to get in the sling, and so on.

But chiefly Thou, Whom soft-eyed Pity once led down from Heaven To bleed for man, to teach him how to live, And, oh! still harder lesson! how to die.

Although I'm predominantly known for game-shows, I do prefer to be known as a performer.

My father was an American who could cuss in Italian and make an aria out of it. It was wonderful to watch. But then again, he was a Gemini. I believe in that stuff.

Blackberry Smoke is my favorite band!

But I feel that the greatest destroyer of peace today is abortion, because it is a war against the child, a direct killing of the innocent child, murder by the mother herself.

We are narrative creatures, and we need narrative nourishment-nar rative catechisms.

He raged for hours. And the skeleton, ever the frail and solelmn philosopher, hung quietly inside, saying not a word, suspended like a delicate insect within a chrysalis, waiting and waiting.