What we love about love is the fever, which marriage puts to bed and cures.

Few of us could bear to have ourselves for neighbors.

Hot dogs always seem better out than at home; so do French-fried potatoes; so do your children.

Spring, summer, and fall fill us with hope; winter alone reminds us of the human condition.

Youth is not enough. And love is not enough. And success is not enough. And, if we could achieve it, enough would not be enough.

The young are generally full of revolt, and are often pretty revolting about it.

Even in the same family, one child will always instinctively know when to ask for things, and another won't.