The secret of life is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.

There's nothing on Earth like really nailing the last line of a big book. You have 200 pages to tickle their fancy, and seven words to break their heart.

And why don't you write? Write! Writing is for you, you are for you; your body is yours, take it. I know why you haven't written. (And why I didn't write before the age of twenty-seven.) Because writing is at once too high, too great for you, it's reserved for the great-that is for "great men"; and it's "silly.

It was easier to give up, but was that really how she wanted her life to end? Kaiya Parks - gone at seventeen, experienced little of life, accomplished even less.

I'd spent so much of the past seven years living my life in a blur, trying to cram as much as humanly possible into a day. I'd missed out on so much in the process, like having dear girlfriends. It wasn't until you knew something was about to end that you realized how fortunate you were to have had it in the first place.

I wake up, I feel the inescapable oppression of the sunlight pouring through my bedroom window, and I am struck by the fact that I am alone. And that everyone is alone. And that everything I understood seven hours ago has already changed, and that I have to learn everything again.

If you want to succeed in the world you must make your own opportunities as you go on. The man who waits for some seventh wave to toss him on dry land will find that the seventh wave is a long time a-coming. You can commit no greater folly than to sit by the road side until someone comes along and invites you to ride with him to wealth or influence

That golden pin ball of a hare must be fresh dead! Thirty eight rabbits, seven squirrels, and one kitty cat D.O.A--MEEEEOOOWWW! Bippity bop-bop-bop bippity boo! I'm not no swineherd, my flocks a dead zoo! Won't crunch on no crumpets, I slurp bacon stew! Ain't dyin' in one life, "my brothaaaa", I'm livin' two! Yo! Everything melts like grilled cheese in the grease of Old Blue! Old Blue! Old Blue! Everything melts like grilled cheese in the grease of Old Blue!" The Old Blue the character raps of?is money.

The right thing to do is so easy to see when you're seventeen years old and don't have to make any big decisions. When you know that no matter what you do, someone will take care of you and fix everything. But when you're grown up, the world is not that black and white, and the right thing doesn't a tidy little arrow pointing to it.

From that moment on, Stella's life was no longer her own. Taking care of seven kids was a twenty-four-hour-a-day job with no weekends off or vacation time.

Then, on a blustery evening in October 2017, the worst wildfires in modern state history ignited. They ripped across Northern California, pushed by the Diablo Winds. The infernos killed 44 people and hospitalized another 192. They incinerated fabled vineyards and the working-class Santa Rosa neighborhood of Coffey Park. People died in swimming pools, in mobile home parks, in their bedrooms and their cars. A fourteen-year-old perished at the end of his family's driveway, unable to outrun the flames. PG&E was held responsible for seventeen of the twenty-one wildfires-which burned an area eight times the size of San Francisco-though the company escaped blame for the worst of the bunch.

Sometimes it takes a bleeding ulcer, to bring together a near-fatal relationship of a father and son, that has gone when the fists couldn't break through a seventeen year mirror, anymore.

The great correspondent of the seventeenth century Madame de Sevigne counseled, "Take chocolate in order that even the most tireome company seem acceptable to you," which is also sound advice today!

But that initial, comet-blazing-across-the-sky, Big Idea is only the beginning. Each book is composed of a mosaic of thousands of little ideas, ideas that invariably come to me at two in the morning when my alarm is set for seven.

Professor [John] Tyndall once said the finest Inspirational he ever received was from an old man who could scarcely read. This man acted as his servant. Each morning the old man would knock on the door of the scientist and call, 'Arise, Sir: it is near seven o'clock and you have great work to do today.

"The Seven Social Sins are:

At the age of four, you were an artist. And at seven, you were a poet.

Every day is the seventh day for every day is self celebrating itself as self differentiated for companionship otherwise known as love.

Every Wise King has six councils of elders, Attention, Knowing, Silence, Peace, Order, and Solitude. With these six he rules as the seventh hand in the council chambers as Understanding, making him the wisest of them all but a Fool as his Prince

Seven days is enough to achieve anything, and enough for everything that was achieved to fall apart.

I know, but it reminds me that I have no control over life. Life doesn't care if you're a soldier or a seventh grader or an aquatic reptile. Things happen.

Advice," Do?a Vorchenza chuckled. "Advice. The years play a sort of alchemical trick, transmuting one's mutterings to a state of respectability. Give advice at forty and you're a nag. Give it at seventy and you're a sage.

The beginning of wisdom, as they say. When you're seventeen you know everything. When you're twenty-seven if you still know everything you're still seventeen.

The secret of life, though, is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.