I wish you joy of your unhappiness, since you cling to it so.

The interest in Wisdom is fading. Soon there will not be enough left to support the aphorism, even though it tries to amuse by half-mocking the Wisdom it propounds.

Call on literary convention, and it will gladly tell your story for you.

The lover as baby is a less troubling idea than the baby as lover.

Courage, determination, and hard work are all very nice, but not so nice as an oil well in the back yard.

In the labyrinth of a difficult text, we find unmarked forks in the path, detours, blind alleys, loops that deliver us back to our point of entry, and finally the monster who whispers an unintelligible truth in our ears.

Life is the risk we cannot refuse.