sometimes i'd wake up at two or three in the morning and not be able to fall asleep again. i'd get out of bed, go to the kitchen, and pour myself a whiskey. glass in hand, i'd look down at the darkened cemetary across teh way and the headlights of the cars on the road. the moments of time linking night and dawn were long and dark. if i could cry, it might make things easier. but what would i cry over? i was too self centered to cry for other people, too old to cry for myself.

The pillow smells like the sunlight, a precious smell.

This may be the most important proposition revealed by history: At the time, no one knew what was coming.

Open your eyes, train your ears, use your head. If a mind you have, then use it while you can.

It's not right for one friend to do all the giving and the other to do all the taking: that's not real friendship.

My father always told me: 'Give somebody a hand and he'll take an arm.

Sometimes taking time is actually a shortcut.