Hoping to live days of greater happiness, I forget that days of less happiness are passing by.

Heaven is not like flying or swimming, but has something to do with blackness and a strong glare.

What childishness is it that while there's breath of life in our bodies, we are determined to rush to see the sun the other way around?

Think of the long trip home. Should we have stayed home and thought of here? Where should we be today?

Someone loves us all.

I HATED the Salinger story. It took me days to go through it, gingerly, a page at a time, and blushing with embarrassment for him every ridiculous sentence of the way. How can they let him do it?

Hoping to live days of greater happiness, I forget that days of less happiness are passing by.