Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like diamonds we are cut with our own dust.

In all our quest of greatness, like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, we follow after bubbles, blown in the air.

All things do help the unhappy man to fall.

We are merely the stars tennis-balls, struck and bandied which way please them.

Well, life is dark, isn't it? Mostly, it's dreadful. At the same time, death is funny too. I mean, look at the fuss we make of it.

I'd like to give zero out capital gains tax and zero out the dividends tax, zero out alternative minimum tax, and zero out the death tax.

There is no such thing as an ugly language. Today I hear every language as if it were the only one, and when I hear of one that is dying, it overwhelms me as though it were the death of the earth.

No one can tell you what to expect or can offer a guide to grief. Because every relationship is so unique, no two people grieve the same way. And you have no idea how you are going to grieve till you are grieving.