Thoughts are thoughts and that's all they are.
They were gray, staring, bottomless, blank, fallen eyes whose pupils played scenes of heaven upside down.
They lived in a blurry world, those two, where clear, consistent intentions weren't required.
The most beautiful faces have some ugly in them.
How soon human beings forget what a privilege it is to live in freedom. A privilege, not an honor. An honor would mean we deserved it. We do not.
Endless soaring toy-rocket dreams and schemes that let out a sad, weak 'pop' at their high climax point and then flake apart as they tumble toward some thorn patch that's also a hatching ground for ba...
You long for a windfall that will let you quit and pursue your great hobby
We were all journalists, professional truth-seekers, but one thing we knew about the truth that laymen were prone to disregard was that it need not be literal or factual; the unpredictable human perso...
Sometimes, when a person is truly lost in this world, suffocating inside her private bubble where all she can hear is her own droning heartbeat, a touch can be enough.
Other people's devotions embarrassed me, perhaps because, like other people's kisses, they rarely looked genuine when viewed too closely.
Men who turn their faith into a business owe all of us a steak dinner now and then.
I'd forgotten this about women: so many conditions. A man shouldn't take them to heart, and yet he does, because he doesn't want to be alone.
I still believe in love. I always will. It's my blessing and my burden.
He looked like a being who'd voyaged back through time from a world that had overcome illness, pain, and conflict.
To apologize for your personal absolutes, for what Sandy Pinter calls your Core Attachments, means apologizing for your very existence.
She's everything I wanted when I was young and everything I distrust now that I'm not.
Meanness on request isn't meanness at all, but kindness carried too far.
It looked like just the sort of family Americans dream of having: dumb and loving.
I've been told my old city possesses a 'thriving arts scene,' whatever that is; personally, I think artists should lie low and stick to their work, not line-dance through the parks.
I sensed the presence of wizened bachelor potters working in sheds behind their mothers’ houses.