Always there was a moment – a quick slip of time – when the sun broke free of the trees and bled from its yolk, spilling in red-orange rivers over the silk.

My wife of 57 years was buried today beside our son, who died in 1941 as a result of a truck accident when he was hitchhiking to take a job. She has longed for him all these years, and now she is with him. I know they are embraced in happiness.

It is very painful to love someone and believe you cannot be with them.

One of the most enduring friendships in history – dogs and their people, people and their dogs.

Always there was a moment—a quick slip of time—when the sun broke free of the trees and bled from its yolk, spilling in red-orange rivers over the silk.

Friendship among men is always part war, something learned from childhood.