Certain things here are quietly American - that chain-link fence dividing the absent roars of the beach from the empty ball park, its holes muttering the word umpire instead of empire; the gray, metal light where an early pelican coasts, with its engine off, over the pink fire of a sea whose surface is as cold as Maine's. The light warms up the...Learn More

The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you...Learn More