“If we call these foothills, can we call the little trees 'foot trees?''' (While driving in the foothills.)

All I am, or can be, I owe to my angel mother.

'Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.'

The roaring of the wind is my wife and the stars through the window pane are my children. The mighty abstract idea I have of beauty in all things stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness.

Nobody has ever before asked the nuclear family to live all by itself in a box the way we do. With no relatives, no support, we've put us in an impossible situation.