Without rain, there would be no life.

Men emerge pale from the little printing plant at four sharp, ghosts for an instant, blinking, until the outdoor light overcomes the look of constant indoor light clinging to them.

Living is a compromise, between doing what you want and doing what other people want.

Americans have been conditioned to respect newness, whatever it costs them.

Faith is not so much a binary pole as a quantum state, which tends to indeterminacy when closely examined.

The other sad truth about golf spectatorship is that for today's pros it all comes down to the putting, and that the difference between a putt that drops and one that rims the cup, though teleologically enormous, is intellectually negligeable.

The crooked little tomato branches, pulpy and pale as if made of cheap green paper, broke under the weight of so much fruit; there was something frantic in such fertility, a crying-out like that of children frantic to please.