Reading aloud means no skipping, no skimming, no cutting to the chase.

I can think of few better ways to introduce a child to books than to let her stack them, upend them, rearrange them, and get her fingerprints all over them.

Muses are fickle, and many a writer, peering into the voice, has escaped paralysis by ascribing the creative responsibility to a talisman: a lucky charm, a brand of paper, but most often a writing instrument. Am I writing well? Thank my pen. Am I writing badly? Don't blame me blame my pen. By such displacements does the fearful imagination defend itself.

I can imagine few worse fates than walking around for the rest of one's life wearing a typo.

I'd rather have a book, but in a pinch I'll settle for a set of Water Pik instructions.

Our view of reality is only a view, not reality itself.

You can miss a lot by sticking to the point.