The surest sign of age is loneliness.

There is a certain age at which a child looks at you in all earnestness and delivers a long, pleased speech in all the true inflections of spoken English, but with not one recognizable syllable.

It's a little silly to finally learn how to write at this age. But I long ago realized I was secretly sincere.

People love pretty much the same things best. A writer looking for subjects inquires not after what he loves best, but after what he alone loves at all.

Buddhism notes that it is always a mistake to think your soul can go it alone.