I suppose that's one of the ironies of life doing the wrong thing at the right moment.

Everybody loves your life but you.

In life, we weep at the thought of death. In death, perhaps we weep at the thought of life.

If my life is just for me and my own security then me no want it. My life is for people. That's way me is.

Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.

If you want love and abundance in your life, give it away.