I seldom remember my father, but I sneeze and rub my nose the way he did. I also love my son with grief and anger, as he did.

I would enjoy experiencing the hollowness of success at first- hand.

Existence is not a mystery unless you think it has a meaning.

Modernism: the books are as hard to understand as life itself.

As a child I was middle-aged and cautious compared to my impulsive father.

Astrology: do we make a hullabaloo among the stars, or do they make a hullabaloo down here?

While there's life, there's fear.