Solitude is a breeding ground for idiosyncrasy, and I relish that about it, the way it liberates whim.

The key, I suppose, has less to do with insight than with willingness, the former being relatively useless without the latter.

When you love somebody, or something, its amazing how willing you are to overlook the flaws.

Happy and alone, you say? Reclusive and merry? How oxymoronic! Pas possible! Alas, the concept is lost on so many.

I am shy by nature, a person who's always found something burdensome about human interaction and who probably always will, at least to some degree.

Dogs have such short life spans, it's like a concentrated version of a human life. When they get older, they become much more like our mothers. They wait for us, watch out for us, are completely fascinated by everything we do.

Before you open the lunch menu or order that cheeseburger or consider eating the cake with the frosting intact, haul out the psychic calculator and start tinkering with the budget.