where a man feels at home, outside of where he’s born, is where he’s meant to go.

Everybody has something wrong with them.

So this was how you died, in whispers that you did not hear.

The sea is the same as it has been since before men ever went on it in boats.

The parody is the last refuge of the frustrated writer. Parodies are what you write when you are associate editor of the Harvard Lampoon. The greater the work of literature, the easier the parody. The step up from writing parodies is writing on the wall above the urinal.

All cowardice comes from not truly loving, or at least, not loving well.

Cowards die a thousand deaths, but the brave only die once.