This human nature is shabby stuff, as you may know from introspection.

Before the mind snaps, or the heart breaks, it gather itself like a clock about to strike. It might even be said one pulls himself together to disintegrate.

The tuba is certainly the most intestinal of instruments, the very lower bowel of music.

The universe is like a safe to which there is a combination. But the combination is locked up in the safe.

Exercise is an unnatural act.

What baffles me is the comfort people find in the idea that somebody dealt this mess. Blind and meaningless chance seems to me so much more congenial - or at least less horrible. Prove to me that there is a God and I will really begin to despair.

Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.