There were periods during my childhood when I stammered so badly I couldn't talk at all.

The question of whether it's God's green earth is not at center stage, except in the sense that if so, one is reminded with some regularity that He may be dying.

If a person sings quietly to himself on the street people smile with approval; but if he talks it's not alright; they think he's crazy. The singer is presumed to be happy and the talker unhappy.

It would be hard to define chaos better than as a world where children decide they don't want to live.

Our loneliness makes us avid column readers these days.

Man is different from animals in that he speculates, a high-risk activity.

A writer's work is to witness things.