Life, after we'd had a few millennia to observe it, turned out to be dreadfully unfair, so we invented sports.

New York was where we wanted to live when we were finally grown up, and drink martinis and stay out past bedtime.

We don't get enough pampering. If we were once the only child of an adoring mother, we developed a taste for it; if not, we developed a thirst for it.

A catless writer is almost inconceivable.

The nostalgic notion of the family orchards is lovely - all that wholesome fruit for our forebears to sit on the back steps biting into - but basically we were growing it to drink.

We're a shifty, sliding population. ... What we refer to as 'home' may be a place we haven't seen in years; a place where there's no one left who knows our name.

Our Revolution was born and raised in taverns.