Now he knew why he loved her so. Without ever leaving the ground, she could fly. 'There must be another one like you,' he whispered to her. 'There's got to be at least one more woman like you.

So this is what insanity is. Not goofy behavior, but watching a sudden change in the world you used to know.

This word "LOVE" - discredited, "clicheed" - can be restored and love, the instinct, the impulse to care for somebody in the hope that somebody will care for you - plus our language, the language, a language - is about all we have. With everything else going on, this is what makes us, what keeps us human.

My theory is that the world is a difficult place to live in and distraction is the name of the game.

I don't know whether the bird you are holding is dead or alive, but what I do know is that it is in your hands. It is in your hands.

For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.

If a Negro got legs he ought to use them. Sit down too long, somebody will figure out a way to tie them up.