My page was too white. My ink was too thin. The day wouldn't write what the night pencilled in.

If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn$$$ they will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a stem.

Perhaps; but I am a difficult person to live with. My difficulty consists in not wanting to live with other people.

Kafka saw both himself and Red Peter as hybrids$$$ as monstrous thinking devices mounted inexplicably on suffering animal bodies.

Practice makes perfect$$$ but nobody's perfect$$$ so why practice?

Life is too short to dwell on what might have been.

Home is a child's first and most important classroom.

Any man can make mistakes$$$ but only an idiot persists in his error.

Sick and perverted always appeals to me.

Small helpings$$$ no seconds$$$ no snacking$$$ and a little bit of everything.