In the time it takes you to understand a 14-year-old, he turns 15.

As a gardener, I'm among those who believe that much of the evidence of God's existence has been planted.

I am a private person, but I will reveal this about myself: if you start massaging my shoulders, don't expect me to tell you to stop.

Road rage is the expression of the amateur sociopath in all of us, cured by running into a professional.

You can think of a painter as a trio - the artist, his talent and his muse, the last two always on the lookout for a new brush man.

In a dark moment I ask, "How can anyone bring a child into this world?" And the answer rings clear, "Because there is no other world, and because the child has no other way into it."

It's like this. Father Time keeps pitching the years at us. We swing and miss at a few. We hit a few out of the park. We try not to take any called strikes.