Funnily enough, it is the subject one dreads talking about at length one ends up talking about at length, often without the slightest provocation.

It’s hard, in America, not to equate ‘happiness’ with ‘things’.

Life was a freight train barreling toward just one stop, our loved ones streaking past our windows in blurs of color and light. There was no holding on to any of it, and no slowing it down.

May you walk a lighted path. May you fight for truth - your truth, not someone else's - and may you understand, above all things, that you are the most important concept, theory, and philosophy I have ever known.

Such things as anguish, woe, affliction, guilt, feelings of awfulness, and utter wretchedness, the bread and butter of Days of Yore and Russians, sadly have very little staying power in these lickety-split Modern Times.

His characters are ravaged, beaten. They walk through infernos and emerged charred doves.

It’s got to be some kind of cult. Anyone offers you Kool-Aid or a hot shower, say no.