I know nothing grander, better exercise, better digestion, more positive proof of the past, the triumphant result of faith in human kind, than a well-contested American national election.

I love doctors and hate their medicine.

From this hour, freedom! Going where I like, my own master.

The sum of all known value and respect, I add up in you, whoever you are.

It is a beautiful truth that all men contain something of the artist in them. And perhaps it is the case that the greatest artists live and die, the world and themselves alike ignorant what they possess.

Human bodies are words, myriads of words, (In the best poems re-appears the body, man's or woman's, well-shaped, natural, gay, Every part able, active, receptive, without shame or the need of shame.)

The truth is simple. If it was complicated, everyone would understand it.