Some men are Baptists, others Catholics; my father was an Oldsmobile man.

Can you imagine 4,000 years passing, and you're not even a memory? Think about it, friends. It's not just a possibility. It is a certainty.

I had woven a tapestry of obscenity that as far as I know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan.

The truth will always have a market.

Manhattan cabs are born old.

The reality of what we really are is often times found in the small snips, way down at the bottom of things.

There are fewer things more thrilling in life than lumpy letters. That rattle.