That a marriage ends is less than ideal; but all things end under heaven, and if temporality is held to be invalidating, then nothing real succeeds.

In no other sport must the spectator move.

Government money in the arts, I fear, can only deflect artists from their responsibility to find an authentic market for their products.

Time is our element, not a mistaken invader.

Hoping to fashion a mirror, the lover doth polish the face of his beloved until he produces a skull.

The scrape and snap of Keds on loose alley pebbles seems to catapult their voices high into the moist March air blue above the wires.

Museums and bookstores should feel, I think, like vacant lots - places where the demands on us are our own demands, where the spirit can find exercise in unsupervised play.