We know the human brain is a device to keep the ears from grating on one another.

We are nothing but a string of gut on a stick of bone riding this piece of astral soot for one piteous splinter of eternity.

Marriage has driven more than one man to sex.

Time heals nothing — which should make us the better able to minister.

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.

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.

My father hated radio and could not wait for television to be invented so he could hate that too.