If childhood is still a state, it is now chiefly a state of confusion.

Ah! some love Paris, / And some Purdue. / But love is an archer with a low I.Q. / A bold, bad bowman, and innocent of pity. / So I'm in love with / New York City.

There is satisfaction in seeing one's household prosper; in being both bountiful and provident.

Behind every myth lies a truth; beyond every legend is reality, as radiant (sometimes as chilling) as the story itself.

It is the leisured, I have noticed, who rebel the most at an interruption of routine.

Meek-eyed parents hasten down the ramps To greet their offspring, terrible from camps.

Love or perish" we are told and we tell ourselves. The phrase is true enough so long as we do not interpret it as "Mingle or be a failure.