Men kick friendship around like a football, but it...

I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness and the willingness to remain vulnerable.

Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries it alone. His own burden in his own way.

I have been overcome by the beauty and richness of our life together, those early mornings setting out, those evenings gleaming with rivers and lakes below us, still holding the last light.

Our scientific age demands that we provide definitions, measurements, and statistics in order to be taken seriously. Yet most of the important things in life cannot be precisely defined or measured. Can we define or measure love, beauty, friendship, or decency, for example?

From an early age I didn't buy into the value systems of working hard in a nine-to-five job. I thought creativity, friendship and loyalty and pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable was much more interesting.

I'm single, footloose and fancy free, I have no responsibilities, no anchors. Work, friendship and self-improvement, that's me.

We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.

As I grow older, I pay less attention to what men say. I just watch what they do.

Men of age object too much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and seldom drive business home to the full period, but content themselves with a mediocrity of success.

Men are like wine - some turn to vinegar, but the best improve with age.

I suppose when they reach a certain age some men are afraid to grow up. It seems the older the men get, the younger their new wives get.

The age of a woman doesn't mean a thing. The best tunes are played on the oldest fiddles.

I think women should start to embrace their age. What's the alternative to getting older? You die. I can't change the day I was born. But I can take care of my skin, my body, my mind, and try to live my life and be happy.

Few women, I fear, have had such reason as I have to think the long sad years of youth were worth living for the sake of middle age.

Wives are young men's mistresses, companions for middle age, and old men's nurses.