Writers don't own their words. Since when do words belong to anybody. "Your very own words," indeed ! And who are you?.

God is always near us. Always for us. Always in us..

No one is you, and that is your power..

Autumn finally arrived. And when it did, I came to a decision. Something had to give: I couldn't keep on living like this..

I live a pretty anonymous life..

I'm the best Manning..

I've waited all my life to say this... I weigh less than Elizabeth Taylor!.

Change is as good as a rest. It keeps me fresh..

It's a very American thing to hide away from death..

Live. And Live Well. BREATHE. Breathe in and Breathe deeply. Be PRESENT. Do not be past. Do not be future. Be now. On a crystal clear, breezy 70 degr….

I don't really like the autumn. For me it is the beginning of winter and I hate the winter. White, the colour of death..

I'm not maximized yet..

It's like going back to school. You know, autumn! Time for 'Harry Potter'..

It was Indian summer, a bluebird sort of day as we call it in the north, warm and sunny, without a breath of wind; the water was sky-blue, the shores….

I love the autumn for its sense of melancholy seems to strike my need for sadness. There is poetry in the dying of the year and mystery as well..

I love the autumn for its sense of melancholy.

I like sayers of no better than I like sayers of yes..

I totally understand OJ. I get it..

It is entirely up to us to invent our own lives..

I love anything that haunts me...and never leaves.

Never, never have I been loved as I love others!.