You can be sexy, but you can't be 50
The Haitians, who knew something about suffering and survival, had a beautiful phrase. . . The Translation is not perfect, but the nut of it was: 'The season of pain is never over until the sky begins to cry.
The best writers who have put pen to paper have often had a journalism background.
Most national correspondents will tell you they rely on stringers and researchers and interns and clerks and news assistants.
Every life deserves a certain amount of dignity, no matter how poor or damaged the shell that carries it.
This is a place where grandmothers hold babies on their laps under the stars and whisper in their ears that the lights in the sky are holes in the floor of heaven.
But I hope I will never have a life that is not surrounded by books, by books that are bound in paper and cloth and glue, such perishable things for ideas have lasted thousands of years. . . I hope I am always walled in by the very weight and breadth and clumsy, inefficient, antiquated bulk of them, hope that I spend my last days on this Earth arranging and rearranging them on thrones of good, honest pine, oak, and mahogany, because I just like to look at their covers, and dream of the promise of the great stories inside.
Well blest is he who has a dear one dead; A friend he has whose face will never change- A dear communion that will not grow strange; The anchor of a love is death.
The absence of feeling bad isn't enough to make you happy; you must strive to find sources of feeling good
You could be somewhere where the mail was delayed three weeks and do just fine investing.
Pepperidge Farm bread. That's fancy bread. You can tell it's fancy because it's wrapped twice. You open it, and it still isn't open. That's why I don't buy it. I don't need another step between me and toast.