You can make a lot of it in a big pot; it goes a long way.

I saw her salt-and-pepper hair all over the country. She was kneeling in the small stone churches. She was sitting in the tiny pubs and laughing with her girlfriends. She was making boiled dinner in the country bed and breakfast. And the aroma was divine.

She seemed to understand the special responsibilities of being the oldest.

Never admit that your back goes out more than you do.

I never did smoke that much pot; never was a big pothead.

It goes from small to big and from the barnyard to the circus.