If you keep rephrasing the question, it gradually becomes the answer.

There is a language of love, which is to say, a truth that does not tell all and a lie that does not deceive.

The verdict is still out on my life, the judge having not yet instructed the jury, both of whom are me.

The ultimate folly is to think that something crucial to your welfare is being taken care of for you.

I nod to a passing stranger, and the stranger nods back, and two human beings go off, feeling a little less anonymous.

The Seven Deadly Sins are a litany of victimless crimes, compiled to distract attention from the bloody felonies of the righteous.

Ah, yes, my social life — a series of encounters where we briefly debate who is in the greater rush.