Poor strangers, they have so much to be afraid of.

I delight in what I fear.

We eat the year away. We eat the spring and the summer and the fall. We wait for something to grow and then we eat it.

So long as you write it away regularly nothing can really hurt you.

There had not been this many words sounded in our house for a long time, and it was going to take a while to clean them out.

Journeys end in lovers meeting; I have spent an all but sleepless night, I have told lies and made a fool of myself, and the very air tastes like wine. I have been frightened half out of my foolish wits, but I have somehow earned this joy; I have been waiting for it for so long.

All cat stories start with this statement: "My mother, who was the first cat, told me this...