Not sorry, not calling, not crying All will pass like smoke of white apple trees Seized by the gold of autumn, I will no longer be young.

Whom shall I call on? Who will share with me The wretched happiness of staying alive?

Goodbye, my friend, goodbye. My dear, you are in my heart. Predestined separation promises a future meeting.

Not sorry, not calling, not cryingAll will pass like smoke of white apple treesSeized by the gold of autumn, I will no longer be young.

Envy is the coward side of Hate, And all her ways are bleak and desolate.

As a work of art, it reminds me of a long conversation between two drunks

The message was that... fathers can go ahead and have children, but they don't have to raise the children.

As long as you have a garden you have a future and as long as you have a future you are alive.

I like to create imaginary characters and events around a real historical situation. I want readers to feel: OK, this probably didn't happen, but it might have.

Apathy is the slow poison coursing through the body politic that paves the way to tyranny.

No enterprise, small or large, public or private, can remain self-governing, let alone successful, so deeply in hock to others as we are about to be.

Used to ride with him to Brooklyn, Lewis and Halsey, co chocolate thai, vernon style and burn it down

The Lord sees weaknesses differently than He does rebellion.

I wanted to know what it means to know something, whether we can know at all, and, if so, how.