From NPR, a take-off on an old radio show idea from the fifties.
My list of some things Americans believe:
It is cool to be kind to the pizza-delivery kid and important to go to funerals.
Savor the sweet times; remembering them will get you through life's nasty spots.
Justice isn't simple, truth isn't relative, and living honestly is harder than it looked when you were young.
What goes around comes around, and don't expect it not to.
Dogs are man's best friend, and woman's too.
You can't judge a book by its cover.
But if you go carrying pictures of chairman Mao, You ain't gonna make it with anyone anyhow.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Every cloud has a silver lining.
It is important to be sweet to old ladies and gentlemen, and to help them if you can.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Rome wasn't built in a day.
We're all just a hunk, a hunk of burning love.
When a man moves away from nature his heart becomes hard.
A rocky vineyard does not need a prayer, but a pick ax.
"When the Earth is sick, the animals will begin to disappear; when that happens, The Warriors of the Rainbow will come to save them." - Chief Seattle
We can't go on together, with suspicious minds.
Those that lie down with dogs, get up with fleas.
Jesus really does love the little children, all the little children of the world, red and yellow, black and white, they ARE precious in His sight.
I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me, Speaking words of wisdom, Let it be.
From Edward R. Murrow's original introduction to the radio show, 1951.
This I Believe. By that name, we present the personal philosophies of thoughtful men and women in all walks of life. In this brief space, a banker or a butcher, a painter or a social worker, people of all kinds who need have nothing more in common than integrity, a real honesty, will write about the rules they live by, the things they have found to be the basic values in their lives.
We hardly need to be reminded that we are living in an age of confusion—a lot of us have traded in our beliefs for bitterness and cynicism or for a heavy package of despair, or even a quivering portion of hysteria. Opinions can be picked up cheap in the market place while such commodities as courage and fortitude and faith are in alarmingly short supply.
Around us all, now high like a distant thunderhead, now close upon us with the wet choking intimacy of a London fog, there is an enveloping cloud of fear. There is a physical fear, the kind that drives some of us to flee our homes and burrow into the ground in the bottom of a Montana valley like prairie dogs, to try to escape, if only for a little while, the sound and the fury of the A-bombs or the hell-bombs, or whatever may be coming.