You are bound, my hunch is, to make it just fine.

What is reality, anyway? Just a collective hunch.

To say that its wrong to feel this way is not the point; you do feel it. All you see is a flash of fire and, depending on your altitude, you don't even see that sometimes.

My hunch is that probably men are doing more both outside the home and inside the home.

I want a fever, in poetry: a fever, and tranquillity.

Detachment produces a peculiar state of mind. Maybe that's the worst sentence of all, to be deprived of feeling what a human being ought to be entitled to feel.