They used to tell one about a kid asking his grumpy old man when they were walking to the park, What's the name of this flower, Papa? And the old guy is peevish and he yells, How should I know? Am I in the milinery business?

At a distance, she might have been a wraith; or a breeze made visible; a vagrom breeze, warm and delicate, and in league with death.

He had a “Let's Spend the Night Together” swagger that young, lean, and confident men use to get away with murder, though he didn't indulge my mother's high bar of outlawness by pretending to be a killer.

We had to clear out the attic so the guest could sleep there.