There are some mysteries of the universe that ought to remain mysteries.

But such was the way with people – they loved the things that made them miserable.

He’s looking for people he can be himself around. Aren’t we all?

When all you have is the memory of a thing, all you can think about is how the thing is gone.

She’d decided that about eighty percent of what you believe about yourself when you’re twenty turns out to be wrong. The problem is you don’t know what your small true part is until much later.

What a treacherous thing a body was, how it so blatantly acted out the mind’s secrets.

It was true. Heard it on Cronkite.

A dormitory was a hopeless idea. Whoever thought of encasing two hundred girls in a concrete box?

The things we love the most are the most disfiguring. Such is our greed for them.

a trauma that breaks you into brand new pieces.

They were coming back to his mother's neighborhood now, the eastern boundary of which was a bridge spanning a know of train tracks that cut through the city like a zipper.

It's not an easy thing to tell a true story.

We gardeners are healthy, joyous, natural creatures. We are practical, patient, optimistic. We declare our optimism every year, every season, with every act of planting.

Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.

If I were wrong, wouldn't one be enough?

I'm moving to a point that I'm fed up with the N.C.A.A. dictation.

I have two Iceland horses, a very hairy dog called Looney, and a guinea pig.

Nature pulls one way and human nature another.

In antihistory, time is an illusion.

God is by definition the holder of all possible knowledge, it would be impossible for him to have faith in anything. Faith, then, is built upon ignorance and hope.

All societies that have survived based on their ability to prepare their sons to be disposable, in war and at work - and therefore as dads.