Just because he was pretty didn't mean he couldn't be improved by a smack upside the head with a piece of earnest hickory
I'm not sixty, I'm "sexty.
I was born with a happy heart, and I try to keep a good attitude. It's not true that I'm happy all the time because nobody is, and we all go through our things.
I make jokes about it, but it's the truth that I kind of patterned my look after the town tramp. I didn't know what she was, just this woman who was blond and piled her hair up, wore high heels and tight skirts, and, boy, she was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Momma used to say, "Aw, she's just trash," and I thought, That's what I want to be when I grow up. Trash.
Oh, I can spot a phoney a mile away.
A lot of people have said I'd have probably done better in my career if I hadn't looked so cheap and gaudy. But I dress to be comfortable for me, and you shouldn't be blamed because you want to look pretty.
You can do anything you want to do as long as you keep a good attitude and keep working at it. But the second you give up, you’re screwed.
I have such an intense pride of sex that the triumphs of women in art, literature, oratory, science, or song rouse my enthusiasm as nothing else can.
When I was young, I was very technical about these things. I didn't like to admit to any intimate relation with what I was writing.
Change is hard because people wear themselves out. And that’s the second surprise about change: What looks like laziness is often exhaustion.
If family religion were duly attended to and properly discharged, I think the preaching of the Word would not be the common instrument of conversion.