I want to still be singing at 70 years old. I want to be open to the dreams I haven't even dreamed up.
The dog is the god of frolic.
Pride slays thanksgiving but a humble mind is the soil out of which thanks...
The babe at first feeds upon the mother's bosom but it is always on her heart.
It's not the work which kills people it's the worry. It's not the revolution...
From your silken hair to your delicate feet you are perfection to me....
Until they put that sand and dirt in my face I will not sit in church all...
God has no religion.
