I consider anybody a twerp who hasn't read the greatest American short story, which is 'Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge,' by Ambrose Bierce.

There's almost nothing like native Midwesterner anywhere else in the world, except in Asia. They're miracles all in themselves.

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.

On the day they dropped the bomb Frank had a tablespoon and a Mason jar. What he was doing was spooning different kinds of bugs into the jar and making them fight....I can remember other bug fights we staged later on...They won't fight unless you keep shaking the jar.

Everybody knows that the dumbest people in any American university are in the education department, and English after that.

The truth is, we know so little about life, we don't really know what the good news is and what the bad news is.

There was a time when I could vote for economic justice, and I can't anymore.