When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not; but my faculties are decaying now and soon I shall be so I cannot remember any but the things that never happened. It is sad to go to pieces like this but we all have to do it. ~Mark Twain
A father carries pictures where his money used to be. ~Author Unknown
Spread the diaper in the position of the diamond with you at bat. Then fold second base down to home and set the baby on the pitcher's mound. Put first base and third together, bring up home plate and pin the three together. Of course, in case of rain, you gotta call the game and start all over again. ~Jimmy Piersal, on how to diaper a baby, 1968
Because time itself is like a spiral, something special happens on your birthday each year: The same energy that God invested in you at birth is present once again. ~Menachem Mendel Schneerson
My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come out and say, "You're tearing up the grass." "We're not raising grass," Dad would reply. "We're raising boys." ~Harmon Killebrew
Dad, your guiding hand on my shoulder will remain with me forever. ~Author Unknown
In childhood, we yearn to be grown-ups. In old age, we yearn to be kids. It just seems that all would be wonderful if we didn't have to celebrate our birthdays in chronological order. ~Robert Brault, www.robertbrault.com
Middle age is the time when a man is always thinking that in a week or two he will feel as good as ever. ~Don Marquis
He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it. ~Clarence Budington Kelland
Youth would be an ideal state if it came a little later in life. ~Herbert Asquith
The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age. ~Lucille Ball
Birthdays are good for you. Statistics show that the people who have the most live the longest. ~Larry Lorenzoni
There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself. ~John Gregory Brown, Decorations in a Ruined Cemetery, 1994
No comments:
Post a Comment