One of the things I dread about becoming an adult is that sooner or later you begin letting sentimentality get in the way of simple logic. False feelings are allowed to clog the works like raw honey poured into the tiny wheels of a fine timepiece.

I’m not the biggest fan of family photographs. Think about it for a second…not only do they remind you, yet again, of how fast your children have grown; but they also provide evidence of how beautiful and thin you USED to be…or the shock that you never were as beautiful or thin as you thought you were. I don't need any of that.

Men do not quit playing because they grow old; they grow old because they quit playing.

I remember a new heaviness in my body, but maybe that's the work of time and my looking back.

Sentimentality is a superstructure covering brutality.

Sentiment is intellectualized emotion; emotion precipitated, as it were, in pretty crystals by the fancy