The Florida sun seems not much a single thing overhead but a set of klieg lights that pursue you everywhere with an even white illumination.

Green grass, green grandstands, green concession stalls, green paper cups, green folding chairs and visors for sale, green and white ropes, green-topped Georgia pines. If justice were poetic, Hubert Green would win it every year.

All blessings are mixed blessings.

The breezes taste Of apple peel. The air is full Of smells to feel- Ripe fruit, old footballs, Burning brush, New books, erasers, Chalk, and such. The bee, his hive, Well-honeyed hum, And Mother cuts Chrysanthemums. Like plates washed clean With suds, the days Are polished with A morning haze.

Most of American life consists of driving somewhere and then returning home, wondering why the hell you went.

To be President of the United States, sir, is to act as advocate for a blind, venomous, and ungrateful client.

It's not up to us what we learn, but merely whether we learn through joy or through pain.