If one morning I walked on top of the water across the Potomac River, the headline that afternoon would read "President Can't Swim".
I'd learned my lesson.
Never rely on the glory of the morning nor the smiles of your mother-in-law.
I don't like composers who think. It gets in the way of their plagiarism.
I heard them shouting through the muffling canvas of the bag, and then I was being impersonally hauled to my feet by my wrists, my arms wrenched up behind my back, my shoulders screaming.
He had learned over the years that poor people did not feel so poor when allowed to give occasionally.
I got up the third step and reached for the fourth, but it wasn't there.