“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Go out on the front porch of the house, turn the Washington Post over with your big toe, and if your name’s above the fold, you know you’re not going to have a good day.

The amazing thing is that I’m sane. I’m not bitter. I’m not drugged out. I’m not broke. I’m still married to the same guy. My children don’t hate me.

Happy Thanksgiving! I broke into Best Buy and stole a copy of Pocahontas to celebrate.

Poverty isn’t being broke; poverty is never having enough.

The quietest are often working-class people, people who are broke. There is a fear of losing whatever it is that you have. I come from that background.

You are already broke and don’t even know it.

I spend so much time in fear of going broke, and I never have been even remotely close to going broke.

Legalistic remorse says, “I broke God’s rules,” while real repentance says, “I broke God’s heart.”

I am not talking about the state or average or common people. I am talking about everybody; because when you close your mind as an official you cannot upgrade and vice versa.