The air was so sweet in New Orleans it seemed to come in soft bandannas; and you could smell the river and really smell the people, and mud, and molasses, and every kind of tropical exhalation, with your nose suddenly removed from the dry ices of a Northern winter.

My whole wretched life swam before my weary eyes, and I realized no matter what you do it's bound to be a waste of time in the end so you might as well go mad.

The truth of the matter is, you die, all you do is die, and yet you live, yes you live, and that's no Harvard lie.

In my medicine cabinet, the winter fly has died of old age.

One night I realized that when you give people understanding and encouragement a funny little meek childish look abashes their eyes, no matter what they've been doing they weren't sure it was right - lambies all over the world.

A pain stabbed my heart as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.

Swinging on delicate hinges the autumn leaf almost off the stem.