A library is a place where you can live a thousand lives. So why are you waiting when you could be living? Visit your library today.

Wanting more is just a recipe for heartache.

A little talent is a good thing to have if you want to be a writer. But the only real requirement is the ability to remember every scar.

You can see the goldenrod, that most tenacious and pernicious and beauteous of all New England flora, bowing away from the wind like a great and silent congregation.

The world had teeth and it could bite you with them anytime it wanted.

I understand from my own work that haste makes waste. But I also understand that ... the creative spark dims, and then death puts it out. William Shakespeare, for instance, hasn’t produced a new play for 400 years. That, my friends, is a long dry spell.

And if there are no cars or planes, and if no one’s Uncle John is out in the wood lot west of town banging away at a quail or pheasant; if the only sound is the slow beat of your own heart, you can hear another sound, and that is the sound of life winding down to its cyclic close, waiting for the first winter snow to perform last rites.