Yes, of course we were pretentious -- what else is youth for?

Had my life increased, or merely added to itself? There had been addition and subtraction in my life, but how much multiplication?

How rarely do our emotions meet the object they seem to deserve? How hopelessly we signal; how dark the sky; how big the waves. We are all lost at sea, washed between hope and despair, hailing something that may never come to rescue us.

All bad things are exaggerated in the middle of the night. When you lie awake, you only think of bad things.

History isn't the lies of the victors, as I once glibly assured Old Joe Hunt; I know that now. It's more the memories of the survivors, most of whom are neither victorious or defeated.

I dreamt that I woke up. It's the oldest dream of all, and I've just had it

May you be ordinary, as the poet once wished the new-born baby.