I'm doomed to act like myself, even when it's inconvenient!

People who didn't live pre-Internet can't grasp how devoid of ideas life in my hometown was. I stopped in the middle of the SAT to memorize a poem, because I thought, This is a great work of art and I'll never see it again.

I don't think I look like the pope's favorite Catholic - at least not under close scrutiny.

Ten years, she's dead, and I still find myself some mornings reaching for the phone to call her. She could no more be gone than gravity or the moon.

How much smaller the large places are once we're grown up, when we have car keys and credit cards.

Such a small, pure object a poem could be, made of nothing but air a tiny string of letters, maybe small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. But it could blow everybody's head off.

Even the best of us are at least part-time bastards.