“And of course, when you see your brother in the toilet bowl there’s a little voice that say, ‘I wonder where he would go if it hadn’t been for his head.”

A grandchild is God’s reward for raising a child.

The worst thing to do is to die while reading LIFE magazine.

Only stupid one’s.

Man can not live by bread alone, he must have peanut butter.

Always end the name of your child with a vowel, so that when you yell the name will carry.

Having a child is surely the most beautifully irrational act that two people in love can commit.

I’m supposed to figure out if the glass is half full or half empty, I told her. Without a moment’s hesitation, in a split second, my grandmother shrugged and said: It depends on if you’re drinking or pouring.

Take your bottom lip and pull it over your head.

The Internet is like Hitler they think they are getting rid of the problem but they’re not.

Never forget that the devil is there 24/7 too. He’s very, very busy.

Men and women belong to different species and communications between them is still in its infancy.

Mediocre people are the most dangerous people in the world.

There is no labor a person does that is undignified; if they do it right.

All Children Have Brain Damage!

And so the dentist says ‘Rinse.’ So you lean over, and you’re lookin’ at this miniature toilet bowl.

The main goal of the future is to stop violence. The world is addicted to it.

Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, and I have founded empires. But on what did we rest the creations of our genius? Upon force. Jesus Christ founded his empire upon love; and at this hour millions of men would die for him.

Death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily.

Death has a tendency to encourage a depressing view of war.

Death is a continuation of my life without me.

I hear her bite is deadly! Be careful ladies and gentlemen.

If you’re afraid to die you won’t be able to live.

We always honor our people when they die; we’ve got to honor them while we’re still alive.

Bureaucrats: they are dead at 30 and buried at 60. They are like custard pies; you can’t nail them to a wall.