If happiness is anticipation with certainty, we were happy.

She is a friend of mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. It's good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind.

Would it be all right? Would it be all right to go ahead and feel? Go ahead and count on something?

Sweet, she thought. He must think I can't bear to hear him say it. That after all I have told him and after telling me how many feet I have, "goodbye" would break me to pieces. Ain't that sweet. "So long," she murmured from the far side of the trees.

I don't think I knew any of my father's friends - male friends - by their real names. I remember them only by their nicknames.

What's interesting about writing is the invention, the creative thing. Writing about myself is a yawn.

A friend gathers all the pieces and gives them back in the right order.