It all meant something. Until it didn't.

But that's one lifetime." Yeah." But while doing that one I'd want to be able to have done other stuff. Whole other lives- the one where I sail-" I know, on a boat you made yourself.

But of course there's no logic to San Francisco generally, a city built with putty and pipe cleaners, rubber cement and colored construction paper. It's the work of fairies, elves, happy children with new crayons

I often cannot believe the things I do.

When we pass by another person without telling them we love them it’s cruel and wrong and we all know this.

The only infallible truth of our lives is that everything we love in life will be taken from us.

I think there's a future where the Web and print coexist and they each do things uniquely and complement each other, and we have what could be the ultimate and best-yet array of journalistic venues.