We were both chumps. But you know what? It's not so bad when you're chumps together.

You know, there are good reasons to learn how to read. Poetry isn't one of them. I mean, so what if two roads go two ways in a wood? So what? Who cares if it made all that big a difference? What difference? And why should I have to guess what the difference is? Isn't that what he's supposed to say? Why can't poets just say what they want to say and then shut up?

Did you find yourself?" "What?" said my sister. "Did you find yourself?" "She found me," I said.

Okay, so maybe sometimes the real world is smiles and miracles.

There's no pleasure in getting to be an old coot unless you have some fun along the way.

We were both chumps. But you know what? It's not so bad when you're chumps together.

I handed the test in five minutes before the end of the day. Mrs. Baker took it calmly, then reached into her bottom drawer for an enormous red pen with a wide felt tip. "Stand here and we'll see how you've done," she said, which is sort of like a dentist handing you a mirror and saying, "Sit here and watch while I drill a hole in your tooth.