Nothing annoys me more than having the most trivial action analyzed and explained.

I suppose all we can really share with people is a taste for the same kinds of weather.

Millie Beggs, by the time she was forty-five, had become an emotional anarchist.

There seemed to be some heavenly support beneath his shoulder blades that lifted his feet from the ground in ecstatic suspension, as if he secretly enjoyed the ability to fly but was walking as a compromise to convention.

And only weaklings...who lack courage and the power to feel they're right when the whole world says they're wrong, ever lose.

Youth doesn't need friends -- it only needs crowds.

People are like almanacs, Bonnie - you never can find the information you're looking for, but the casual reading is well worth the trouble.