I Still Write In Long Hand. I

Why Do They Not Teach You That Time Is A Finger Snap And An Eye Blink, And That You Should Not Allow A Moment To Pass You By Without Taking Joyous, Ecstatic Note Of It, Not Wasting A Single Moment Of Its Swift, Breakneck Circuit?

Walking The Streets Of Charleston In The Late Afternoons Of August Was Like Walking Through Gauze Or Inhaling Damaged Silk.

There Is No Teacher More Discriminating Or Transforming Than Loss.

Once You Have Traveled, The Voyage Never Ends.

I Would Always Be A Better Hater Of Things And Institutions Than A Lover Of Them.