Dear future generations: Please accept our apologies. We were rolling drunk on petroleum.
The Summer had died peacefully in its sleep, and Autumn, as soft-spoken executrix, was locking life up safely until Spring came to claim it.
Each one of us has to be what he or she is.
The triumph of anything is a matter of organization.
We are here for no purpose, unless we can invent one.
I asked this heroic pet lover how it felt to have died for a schnauzer named Teddy. Salvador Biagiani was philosophical. He said it sure beat dying for absolutely nothing in the Viet Nam War.