“This is our house. And this is America Online.” (While pointing at a map of the North American continent.)

Certain is it that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a father to a daughter. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express.

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.

'Divorce is when mommy and daddy yell at each other then they spread apart. Then they put up a 'for sale' sign in front of the house and they spread farther and farther apart until they can't come back ever again and it's very sad.' (teaching her 4-year old brother)

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.