I raised another shot. "That sound you hear is the heads of moral conservatives spontaneously exploding in the distance.

Fall leaves are brilliant with gold and red. You can cup them in your hand and wonder at them, be amazed at their uniqueness and glory. But eventually they are gone, brown, crumbling, scattered on the wind. But the tree remains. The tree is what is important. The tree lives on. That was a difficult knowledge to bear, and an even more difficult life to live. Of course, being the leaf wasn't exactly desirable either.

People--stupid when they lived; potentially stupid when they died.

Funny thing about faith ... it goes a lot faster than it comes.

Pick up your clothes. I am not your maid. How do I know this? A maid cannot kill you with a tube sock. I can.

You're so very good at that. The temper, the scowl. You must drink shots of testosterone in your morning coffee.

As I stood, I took in a last breath of spring-scented air, listened to the birdsong, and then saw a member of wildlife the conservationists hadn't planned on reviving in this place. A perv in a white shirt and polyester pants. A standard hide-in-the-bushes-and-whack-it perv. Fat and balding, it was as appealing as watching a giant marshmallow go at it.