I believe that most of us would like to be thought well of by horses.

After all, when you come right down to it, how many people speak the same language even when they speak the same language?

Me, what's that after all? An arbitrary limitation of being bounded by the people before and after and on either side. Where they leave off I begin, and vice versa.

There must be a lot of people in the world being wondered about by people who don't see them anymore.

Life is a process of one goneness after another.

Sometimes there's nothing but Sundays for weeks on end. Why can't they move Sunday to the middle of the week so you could put it in the OUT tray on your desk?

The things that matter don't necessarily make sense.