The difference between childhood and adulthood, Vic had come to believe, was the difference between imagination and resignation. You traded one for the other and lost your way.

Longhaired preachers come out every night, Tryin' to tell us what's wrong and what's right. But when asked about something to eat, They will tell you in voices so sweet. You will eat (You will eat!) By and by, (By and by!) In that glorious land in the sky. (Way up high!) Work and pray, live on hay, You'll get pie in the sky when you die. (That's a lie!)

Who knows what may lie around the next corner? There may be a window somewhere ahead. It may look out on a field of sunflowers.

It bewildered Ig, the idea that a person could not be interested in music. It was like not being interested in happiness.

She liked things that had been written by people who had lived short, ugly, and tragic lives. Or, who at least, were English.

Pick a sin we can both live with, is what I ask.

Don't believe everything you hear today