Every advance in knowledge and technique is matched by a new kind of death, a new strain. Death adapts, like a viral agent.

A person rises on a word and falls on a syllable.

A mystery novel localizes the awesome force of the real death outside the book, winds it tightly in a plot.

There is a world inside the world.

Doesn't seem quite real. It's not meaningful. I can't quite imagine myself being 73. That's the age my father was! [Laughter.] How can I be his age? It's weird.

The less important you are in an office, the more they expect the happy smile.

He thinks he's happy but it's just a nerve cell in his brain that's getting too much stimulation or too little stimulation.