The occupational hazard of making a spectacle of yourself, over the long haul, is that at some point you buy a ticket too.

By your late thirties the ground has begun to grow hard. It grows harder and harder until the day that it admits you.

It don't do you no nevermind to tell nobody nothing.

Literature is the ditch I'm going to die in. It's still the thing I care most about.

You can't say enough about fishing. Though the sport of kings, it's just what the deadbeat ordered.

The trouble is, you can't properly present something you don't believe in.

I had just settled Grandma on her folding chair and popped open our box lunch when the corpse floated by.