There is this quality, in things, of the right way seeming wrong at first.
The great thing about the dead, they make space.
The difficulty with humorists is that they will mix what they believe with what they don't; whichever seems likelier to win an effect.
If she’d been born at the right time they would have burned her over in Salem.
We are most alive when we're in love.
What more fiendish proof of cosmic irresponsibility than a Nature which, having invented sex as a way to mix genes, then permits to arise, amid all its perfumed and hypnotic inducements to mate, a tireless tribe of spirochetes and viruses that torture and kill us for following orders?