You have what I can afford to give. You are a panhandler, begging for anything, and I am the man walking briskly by, tossing a quarter or so into your paper cup. I can afford to give you this. This does not break me.

We've lost that very simple transaction that's so pure, where a reader can say, "I support what you're doing, here's my dollar. I know that you guys are gonna be watchdogs or keep the government accountable, so here's my 50-cent contribution each day." It's just so tidy, and I think so inspiring.

Every time I get through the work on a book of nonfiction, I say I'll never do it again; it takes so much out of you.

We are all feeding from each other, all the time, every day.

If your hand doesn't work for it, your heart doesn't feel sorry for it.

Why shouldn’t your curiosity about the world be rewarded?

Nothing again. No one is listening. No one is waiting to hear the kicking of a man above. It is unexpected. You have no ears for someone like me.