Divine fires do not blaze each day but an artist functions in their afterglow, hoping for their recurrence.

The beautiful are shyer than the ugly, for they move in a world that does not ask for beauty.

If asked to list my ten favorite American fiction writers, Gail Godwin would be among them. In this, her latest . . . she evokes in a short book the long married life of two artists. Evenings at Five is a strong tale of love-after-death.

Divine fires do not blaze each day but an artist functions in their afterglow, hoping for their recurrence.

As a lifelong pacifist, Quaker, and a gay man, I despair that gays and lesbians are expending energy trying to get into the military when they should be using that same energy getting rid of the military completely.

All men are forced into one of two categories: those with eleven fingers and those without.

Arguably, no artist grows up: If he sheds the perceptions of childhood, he ceases being an artist.