Name the season’s first hurricane Zelda and fool Mother Nature into calling it a year.

Count no day lost in which you waited your turn, took only your share and sought advantage over no one.

Know thyself, or at least keep renewing the acquaintance.

Does a rose exist that I might behold it? Or do I exist that a rose might be beheld?

It is the abiding faith of mortals that mortality is a temporary condition.

There is a child in every one of us who is still a trick-or-treater looking for a brightly-lit front porch.

Art is an attempt to understand, yielding pleasure in the attempt whether or not we understand.