I didn't realize then that so much of being adult is reconciling ourselves with the awkwardness and strangeness of our own feelings. Youth is the time of life lived for some imaginary audience

You know what the best thing is about the end of the day? Tomorrow, it starts all over again.

A few years ago it dawned on me that everybody past a certain age - regardless of how they look on the outside - pretty much constantly dreams of being able to escape from their lives.

I tried to think of a witty play on Every picture tells a thousand words, but then the whole word/picture thing collapsed on me.

A good piece of technology dreams of the day when it will be replaced by a newer piece of technology. This is one definition of progress.

The belief that tomorrow is a different place from today is certainly a unique hallmark of our species.

And then sometimes I think the people to feel saddest for are people who once knew what profoundness was, but who lost or became numb to the sensation of wonder – people who closed the doors that leads us into the secret world – or who had the doors closed for them by time and neglect and decisions made in times of weakness.