That God has managed to survive the inanities of the religions that do Him homage is truly a miraculous proof of His existence.

Despite all our toil and progress, the art of medicine still falls somewhere between trout casting and spook writing.

I have written a raucous valentine to a poet's dream and agony.

The honors Hollywood has for the writer are as dubious as tissue-paper cuff links.

There was a land of Cavaliers and Cotton Fields called the Old South. Here in this pretty world, Gallantry took its last bow. Here was the last ever to be seen of Knights and their Ladies Fair, of Master and of Slave. Look for it only in books, for it is no more than a dream remembered, a Civilization gone with the wind.

Love is a hole in the heart.

That God has managed to survive the inanities of the religions that do Him homage is truly a miraculous proof of His existence.