Poetry is engendered in solitude, so what better meter for it than the clip of a buckskin horse?

Men greet each other with a sock on the arm, women with a hug, and the hug wears better in the long run.

There often seems to be a playfulness to wise people, as if either their equanimity has as its source this playfulness or the playfulness flows from equanimity; and they can persuade other people who are in a state of agitation to calm down and smile.

No birdcall is the musical equal of a clarinet blown with panache.

Many divorces are not really the result of irreparable injury but involve, instead, a desire on the part of the man or woman to shatter the setup, start out from scratch alone, and make life work for them all over again. They want the risk of disaster, want to touch bottom, see where bottom is, and, coming up, to breathe the air with relief and relish again.

It's incongruous that the older we get, the more likely we are to turn in the direction of religion. Less vivid and intense ourselves, closer to the grave, we begin to conceive of ourselves as immortal.

Poetry is engendered in solitude, so what better meter for it than the clip of a buckskin horse?