“Whatever you wanna be, just, at the end of the day, if you're being a good person, which is not hard to be, and you're putting positive energy into the world, and you're appreciative and loving to the people around you that care about you and everybody in general, then it'll work out.”

“Whatever you wanna be, just, at the end of the day, if you're being a good person, which is not hard to be, and you're putting positive energy into the world, and you're appreciative and loving to the people around you that care about you and everybody in general, then it'll work out.”

“Today's a beautiful day, and yesterday was a beautiful day, so that means it's a great life.”

“Whatever you wanna be, just, at the end of the day, if you're being a good person, which is not hard to be, and you're putting positive energy into the world, and you're appreciative and loving to the people around you that care about you and everybody in general, then it'll work out.”

“There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

“If everything in this world was in constant decay, why expend so much energy gnashing my teeth over work?”

“Anger is implanted in us as sort of sting, to make us gnash with our teeth against the devil, to make us vehement against him, not to set us in array against each other.”

“Saturday night at my house, I often trot out classic movies and force the urchins to watch them. There is much wailing and gnashing of teeth, but I think it's important to teach kids about American culture, and films are certainly a big part of it.”

“But the wild things cried, “Oh please don’t go - we’ll eat you up - we love you so!”And Max said, “No!”The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved goodbye.”

“I was reading, absorbed in an assault on K2 by a team of Japanese mountaineers, my lungs constricting in the thin burning air, the deadly sting of wind-lashed ice in my face, when the record -- Le Sacre du Printemps -- caught in the groove with a gnashing squeal as if a stageful of naiads, dryads and spandex satyrs had simultaneously gone lame.”

“But if one doesn't really exist, one wonders why..." she hesitated."Why one makes such a fuss about things," Anthony suggested. "All that howling and hurrahing and gnashing of teeth. About the adventures of a self that isn't really a self—just the result of a lot of accidents. And of course," he went on, "once you start wondering, you see at once that there is no reason for making such a fuss. And then you don't make a fuss—that is, if you're sensible. Like me," he added, smiling.”

“It was then I truly realised the whale is no more a fish than I am. So much blood. This was not like the fish on the quay, fresh caught, lying flipping and flopping, death on a simmer. This was a fierce, boiling death. She died thrashing blindly in a slick of gore, full of pain and fury, gnashing her jaws, beating her tail, spewing lumps of slime and half-digested fish that fell stinking about us. It was vile. So much strength dies slowly.”