Grown don't mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What's that supposed to mean? In my heart it don't mean a thing.

Clever, but schoolteacher beat him anyway to show him that definitions belonged to the definers - not the defined.

Home is memory, home is your history, home is where you work. Some people want to abandon it and become truly local. But the questions are all there.

The peace I am thinking of is the dance of an open mind when it engages another equally open one.

It is sheer good fortune to miss somebody long before they leave you.

At some point in life, the world's beauty becomes enough.

I would solve a lot of literary problems just thinking about a character in the subway, where you can't do anything anyway.