An idea is a feat of association.

Talking is a hydrant in the yard and writing is a faucet upstairs in the house. Opening the first takes the pressure off the second.

All thought is a feat of association; having what's in front of you bring up something in your mind that you almost didn't know you knew

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud And goes down burning into the gulf below, No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud At what has happened. Birds, at least must know It is the change to darkness in the sky. Murmuring something quiet in her breast, One bird begins to close a faded eye; Or overtaken too far from his nest, Hurrying low above the grove, some waif Swoops just in time to his remembered tree. At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe! Now let the night be dark for all of me. Let the night be too dark for me to see Into the future. Let what will be, be.

I came from a very intellectual neighborhood. When we played cowboys and Indians as kids, I had to be Gandhi.

Being the boss anywhere is lonely. Being a female boss in a world of mostly men is especially so.

You have freedom when you're easy in your harness.