John Updike: our greatest suburban chic-boutique man of letters. A smug and fatal complacency has stunted his growth beyond hope of surgical repair. Not enough passion in his collected works to generate steam in a beer can. Nevertheless, he is considered by some critics to be America's finest *living* author: Hold a chilled mirror to his lips and you will see, presently, a fine and dewy moisture condensing -- like a faery breath! -- upon the glass.

Home is where, when you have to go there, you probably shouldn't.

Government should be weak, amateurish and ridiculous. At present, it fulfills only a third of the role.

Why is it that the destruction of something created by humans is called vandalism, yet the destruction of something created by God is called development?

All power rests on hierarchy: An army is nothing but a well-organized lynch mob.

Baseball serves as a good model for democracy in action: Every player is equally important and each has a chance to be a hero.

Music is a savage art, a measured madness.