I like living. I have sometimes been wildly despairing, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.
What can I say at seventy-five? Thank God for my good life, and for all the love that has been given to me.
In therapy I began to explore other ways of communicating, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been on the radio. And it’s not to suggest that the radio show isn’t completely insane still — which it is. There’s a lot of outrageous humor in things, but what I also began to guard and protect are […]
What I live for is those … moments where you really feel like it’s real life, and you’re in this character, and you’re in this moment and you’re recreating life as it goes along. That to me is like a drug. It’s like the ultimate high.
The great majority of human beings have to work the greater part of the day, and then amuse themselves afterwards— if they are not too tired. But the lucky few derive their keenest interest and enjoyment not from any contrast between business and idle hours—but from the work itself.
People don’t notice whether it’s winter or summer when they’re happy.
The world would be happier if men had the same capacity to be silent that they have to speak.
I have no faith in human perfectibility. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active – not more happy – nor more wise, than he was 6000 years ago.
Better a dish of illusion and a hearty appetite for life than a feast of reality and indigestion therewith.
To hope is to enjoy.