I have always wanted a swimming pool and never had one.

It Was Once Suggested to Me that, as an Antidote to Crying, I Put My Head in a Paper Bag.

That no one dies of migraine seems, to someone deep into an attack, an ambiguous blessing.

It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends.

I know something about dread myself, and appreciate the elaborate systems with which some people fill the void, appreciate all the opiates of the people, whether they are as accessible as alcohol and heroin and promiscuity or as hard to come by as faith in God or History.

The wind shows us how close to the edge we are.

To have that sense of one's intrinsic worth which constitutes self-respect is potentially to have everything.