Marriage is like a series of opposing reflections, inverse images getting ever smaller like nesting dolls, each one of your trying to squeeze yourself smaller to fit inside the hopes of the other, until one of you cracks or stops existing.

This is how most stories end in the hospital. Not with crash carts and sirens and electric shocks to the chest, but with an empty room, a crisp white bed, silence.

The cold, cruel reality is that with one current justice now approaching ninety, and four others over seventy, the day will inevitably arrive when a sitting justice lies in an intensive care unit, both unable to resign and unable to resume his or her duties.

If you give a man a hammer, he thinks he can solve all problems by pounding. Well, God gave men penises.

Even a poor tour guide is entitled to some happiness.

If God wanted teenagers to be abstinent, puberty would begin at twenty.

Choose old people for enemies. They die. You win.