Feeling that morality has nothing to do with the way you use the resources of the world is an idea that can't persist much longer. If it does, then we won't.

We tap our toes to chaste love songs about the silvery moon without recognizing them as hymns to copulation.

How is it right to slip free of an old skin and walk away from the scene of the crime? We came, we saw, we took away and we left behind, we must be allowed our anguish and our regrets.

Poor Congo, barefoot bride of men who took her jewels and promised the Kingdom.

At some point in my life I'd honestly hoped love would rescue me from the cold, drafty castle I lived in. But at another point, much earlier I think, I'd quietly begun to hope for nothing at all in the way of love, so as not to be disappointed. It works. It gets to be a habit.

It's tough to break yourself as news to a town that already knows you.

Loose lips sink ships.