the truth is artistically fallacious.

Now he understood. This was death. Death was a silence that gave back no answer.

It is not that death comes, but that life leaves.

Somewhere beyond the sink-hole, past the magnolia, under the live oaks, a boy and a yearling ran side by side, and were gone forever.

It's very important to be just to other people. It takes years and years of living to learn that injustice against oneself is always unimportant.

Food imaginatively and lovingly prepared, and eaten in good company, warms the being with something more than the mere intake of calories. I cannot conceive of cooking for friends or family, under reasonable conditions, as being a chore.

Ants in the house seem to be, not intruders, but the owners.