“If we lose sight of pleasures and luxuries that intoxicate the senses in the most sensuous and beautiful and simplest of ways, then we`ve lost a lot.”

“Why let taste get in the way of a good investment?”

“The most powerful control we can ever attain, is to be in control of ourselves.”

“My personality is a luxury that's costing me too dearly.”

“If we can’t work out how it’s done, we’ll Google it”

“We can’t make love out here. It’s freezing!” Maryanne cried.A boyishly beseeching look lit up his eyes. “We would heat up quickly.”“It’s fine for you,” she protested. “You only need one part of your body, and you’ll be sliding that into warmth.”

“It was language I loved, not meaning. I liked poetry better when I wasn't sure what it meant. Eliot has said that the meaning of the poem is provided to keep the mind busy while the poem gets on with its work -- like the bone thrown to the dog by the robber so he can get on with his work. . . . Is beauty a reminder of something we once knew, with poetry one of its vehicles? Does it give us a brief vision of that 'rarely glimpsed bright face behind/ the apparency of things'? Here, I suppose, we ought to try the impossible task of defining poetry. No one definition will do. But I must admit to a liking for the words of Thomas Fuller, who said: 'Poetry is a dangerous honey. I advise thee only to taste it with the Tip of thy finger and not to live upon it. If thou do'st, it will disorder thy Head and give thee dangerous Vertigos.”