A day, a livelong day, is not one thing but many. It changes not only in growing light toward zenith and decline again, but in texture and mood, in tone and meaning, warped by a thousand factors of season, of heat or cold, of still or multi winds, torqued by odors, tastes, and the fabrics of ice or grass, of bud or leaf or black-drawn naked limbs. And as a day changes so do its subjects, bugs and birds, cates, dogs, butterflies and people.

Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream.

Man has a choice and it's a choice that makes him a man.

Anything that just costs money is cheap.

A boy becomes a man when a man is needed

You never oughta drink water when it ain't runnin'.

In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved.