Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.

Live while you live, when you're dead you're dead.

I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone.

There were lots of things to stop and see-and then it was time to go, always time to go.

A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.

During my three years in Vietnam, I certainly heard plenty of last words by dying American footsoldiers. Not one of them, however, had illusions that he had somehow accomplished something worthwhile in the process of making the Supreme Sacrifice.

Is there nothing I have done which will outlive me, other than the opprobrium of my first wife and sons and grandchildren? Do I care? Doesn't everybody? Poor me. Poor practically everybody, with so little durable good to leave behind!