There are moments we return to, now and always. Family is like water - it has a memory of what it once filled, always trying to get back to the original stream.

The repeated lies become history, but they don't necessarily become the truth.

Stories are the best democracy we have. We are allowed to become the other we never dreamed we could be.

The city was bigger than its buildings, bigger than its inhabitants too. It had its own nuances. It accepted whatever came its way, the crime and the violence and the little shocks of good that crawled out from underneath the everyday.

One small cloud, cast out by the herd, limps away to the west.

I don't know of a greater privilege than being allowed to tell a story, or to listen to a story. They're the only thing we have that can trump life itself.

It had never occurred to me before but everything in New York is built upon another thing, nothing is entirely by itself, each thing as strange as the last, and connected.