Glass breaks so easily. No matter how careful you are.

I always said little Truman had a voice so high it could only be detected by bats.

Not facing a fire doesn't put it out.

I met her last summer on a moonlight boat trip.

There comes a time when you look into the mirror and you realize that what you see is all that you will ever be. And then you accept it. Or you kill yourself. Or you stop looking in mirrors.

Perhaps the most vivid recollection of my youth is that of the local wheelmen, led by my father, stopping at our home to eat pone, sip mint juleps, and flog the field hands. This more than anything cultivated my life-long aversion to bicycles.

I think that hate is a feeling that can only exist where there is no understanding.