“I remember thinking how often we look, but never see … we listen, but never hear … we exist, but never feel. We take our relationships for granted. A house is only a place. It has no life of its own. It needs human voices, activity and laughter to come alive.”

If I had my life to live over, instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished ever moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

One never realizes how different a husband and wife can be until they begin to pack for a trip.

Laughter rises out of tragedy when you need it the most, and rewards you for your courage.

Humor is a spontaneous, wonderful bit of an outburst that just comes. It’s unbridled, its unplanned, it’s full of suprises.

Volunteers are the only human beings on the face of the earth who reflect this nation’s compassion, unselfish caring, patience, and just plain love for one another.

Housework can kill you if done right.

Sometimes I can’t figure designers out. It’s as if they flunked human anatomy.

My theory on housework is, if the item doesn’t multiply, smell, catch fire, or block the refrigerator door, let it be. No one else cares. Why should you?

It seemed rather incongruous that in a society of super sophisticated communication, we often suffer from a shortage of listeners.

Pregnancy is the only time in a woman’s life she can help God work a miracle.

Thanksgiving dinners take eighteen hours to prepare. They are consumed in twelve minutes. Half-times take twelve minutes. This is not coincidence.

When my kids become wild and unruly, I use a nice, safe playpen. When they’re finished, I climb out.

I just clipped 2 articles from a current magazine. One is a diet guaranteed to drop 5 pounds off my body in a weekend. The other is a recipe for a 6 minute pecan pie.

A grandmother pretends she doesn’t know who you are on Halloween.

Housework, if it is done properly, can cause brain damage.

Maybe age is kinder to us than we think. With my bad eyes, I can’t see how bad I look, and with my rotten memory, I have a good excuse for getting out of a lot of stuff.

Because you are alive, everything is possible.

I’m happy to be alive, I’m happy to be who I am.

I want to stay hopeful, even though I get scared about why we’re even alive at all.

What is the point of being alive if you don’t at least try to do something remarkable?

I just look for someone who makes me feel like life is an exciting opportunity and, you know, just like to be alive.

The greatest of all miracles is to be alive.

Better to not know which moment may be your last. Every morsel of your entire being alive to the infinite mystery of it all.

Better to not know which moment may be your last. Every morsel of your entire being alive to the infinite mystery of it all.