I don't know how anyone gets anything done in New York City. I vastly prefer living in the country. I just need a lot of quiet and solitude, and I'm so easily distracted. I mean, the Internet is enough to deal with.

It was a vicious cycle, though. The more gratification we found in our own geniuses, the more isolated we grew.

At first I was glad for the help. My freshmen English class, "Mythology and Archetypal Experience," confounded me. I didn't understand why we couldn't just read books without forcing contorted interpretations on then

Even drawing gray hair at all is difficult to render in black and white.

Was Daedalus really stricken with grief when Icarus fell into the sea? Or just disappointed by the design failure

My father once nearly came to blows with a female dinner guest about whether a particular patch of embroidery was fuchsia or magenta. But the infinite gradations of color in a fine sunset - from salmon to canary to midnight blue - left him wordless.

It was not a triumphal return. Home, as I had known it, was gone.