Sometimes I Have A Notion That What

The Saints Differ From Us In Their Exuberance, The Excess Of Our Human Talents. Moderation Is Not Their Secret. It Is In The Wildness Of Their Dreams, The Desperate Vitality Of Their Ambitions, That They Stand Apart From Ordinary People Of Good Will.

The Thing To Remember About Fathers Is, They're Men. A Girl Has To Keep It In Mind: They Are Dragon Seekers, Bent On Improbable Rescues. Scratch Any Father, You Find Someone Chock - Full Of Qualms And Romantic Terrors, Believing Change Is A Threat - Like Your First Shoes With Heels On, Like Your First Bicycle I Took Such Months To Get.

Ah, Snug Lie Those That Slumber Beneath Conviction's Roof. Their Floors Are Sturdy Lumber, Their Windows Weatherproof. But I Sleep Cold Forever And Cold Sleep All My Kind, For I Was Born To Shiver In The Draft From An Open Mind.

Wherever Conversation's Flowing, / Why Must I Feel It Falls On Me / To Keep Things Going?

Who Could Deny That Privacy Is A Jewel? It Has Always Been The Mark Of Privilege, The Distinguishing Feature Of A Truly Urbane Culture. Out Of The Cave, The Tribal Teepee, The Pueblo, The Community Fortress, Man Emerged To Build Himself A House Of His Own With A Shelter In It For Himself And His Diversions. Every Age Has Seen It So. The Poor Might Have To Huddle Together In Cities For Need's Sake, And The Frontiersman Cling To His Neighbors For The Sake Of Protection. But In Each Civilization, As It Advanced, Those Who Could Afford It Chose The Luxury Of A Withdrawing-place.