Who in the Bible besides Jesus knew--knew--that we're carrying the Kingdom of Heaven around with us, inside, where we're all too goddam stupid and sentimental and unimaginative to look?

Happiness is a solid and joy is a liquid.

The room was not impressively large, even by Manhattan apartment-house standards, but its accumulated furnishings might have lent a snug appearance to a banquet hall in Valhalla.

Were most of your stars out? Were you busy writing your heart out?

Its really hard to be roommates with people if your suitcases are much better than theirs.

I privately say to you, old friend... please accept from me this unpretentious bouquet of early-blooming parentheses: (((()))).

There isn't anyone out there who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady.