My mother, at least twice, cancelled our family's subscription to the newspaper I was working on, because she was so mad about its treatment of my father.

My parents encouraged me in everything I ever wanted to do.

It takes an earthquake to remind us that we walk on the crust of an unfinished planet.

I wasn't a very discriminating reader. I read just about everything that came along.

You know, most reporters can't go back to the towns they wrote stories about. I never wrote that kind of story.

I used to think that driving, sleepless, ambitious labor was what you needed to succeed.

What is it that binds us to this place as to no other? It is not the well, or the bell, or the stone walls, or the crisp October nights or the memory of dogwoods blooming. Our loyalty is not only to William Richardson Davie though we are proud of what he did 200 years ago today. Nor even to Dean Smith, though we are proud of what he did last March. No, our love for this place is based on the fact that it is as it was meant to be, the University of the people.