I love rhymes; I love to write a poem about New York and rhyme 'oysters' with 'The Cloisters.' And 'The lady from Knoxville who bought her brassieres by the boxful.' I just feel a sort of small triumph.

Spending time in a church does not make you religious, any more than spending time in a garage makes you a car.

You get old and you realize there are no answers, just stories.

She gave him such a look... Man oh man, if looks could kill. That one might have totalled a city block.

... and people are to march around the church to commemorate the event, Palm Sunday, when Jesus rode into Jerusalem and was greeted with applause and with palms. People thought he had come to overthrow the Romans, but ... no ... he had come to change THEM ... and that led to things turning bad.

I don't associate work with feelings of satisfaction. Rather, guilt, frustration, and resentment of people who write better than I do.

Eating a little was like vomiting a little, just as bad as a lot.