I like to think Im a pretty good-natured guy and pretty civil and probably not ever truly guilty in any serious way of any legal infractions.

The colossal might of wickedness: how we love to locate it massively elsewhere. But so much of it comes down to what each one of us does between breakfast and bedtime.

In summer moonlight, she was dangerously, inebriatingly magnified.

Yet who can say how our souls have been stamped by witnessing such a cruel drama? All souls are hostages to their human envelopes, but souls must decay and suffer at such indignity, don't you agree?

I never use the words HUMANIST or HUMANITARIAN, as it seems to me that to be human is to be capable of the most heinous crimes in nature.

The body apologizes to the soul for its errors, and the soul asks forgiveness for squatting in the body without invitation.

Perhaps family itself, like beauty, is temporary, and no discredit need attach to impermanence.