Nothing is so awesomely unfamiliar as the familiar that discloses itself at the end of a journey. Nothing shakes the heart so much as meeting-far, far away-what you last met at home.

The engineering is secondary to the vision.

In real life wishing, divorced from willing, is sterile and begets nothing.

One reason writers write is out of revenge.

Bohemia and all its works are vanished out of America; or, more exactly, bohemia has migrated to the middle class, and is alive and well in condo and suburb.

Awe consumes any brand that ignites it.

Advances in technology neither impede nor augment literature.