There's nothing quite like a real . . . train conductor to add color to a quotidian commute
I like the way he danced. And then I like the way we danced together.
One of my favorite poets, Neruda, writes close to the bone. Though I know only a little Spanish, I like to compare the Spanish and English lines and see how the translator worked.
Mountains are where heaven meets earth.
The real Mary Poppins got lost when Hollywood turned her into a cream puff.
There's something almost adolescent about Whitman's paean to everything that was and remains good about America.