Don't want to get tipsy and break a hip.

Hey! Shouts Camel. There ain't no woman in the world worth two bottles of whiskey!

Sometimes I think that if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn. Not that I wouldn't love to have a final roll in the hay - I am a man yet, and something never die - but the thought of those sweet kernels bursting between my teeth sure sets my mouth to watering. It's fantasy, I know that. Neither will happen. I just like to weight the options, as though I were standing in front of Solomon: a final roll in the hay or an ear of corn. What a wonderful dilemma. Sometimes I substitute an apple for the corn.

They grew fat and happy--the horses, not the children, or Marlena for that matter.

I just think I'm better equipped to make a study of human personality than trying to get into the mind of animals.

I stroke her lightly, memorizing her body. I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I lie motionless, savoring the feeling of her body against mine. I'm afraid to breathe in case I break the spell.

I think there is just a vein of humanity that really loves animals and really loves to read about them.