Time's passage through the memory is like molten glass that can be opaque or crystalize at any given moment at will: a thousand days are melted into one conversation, one glance, one hurt, and one hurt can be shattered and sprinkled over a thousand days. It is silent and elusive, refusing to be damned and dripped out day by day; it swirls through the mind while an entire lifetime can ride like foam on the deceptive, transparent waves and get sprayed onto the conciousness at ragged, unexpected intervals.

The intelligence community, for the most part, has no accountability at all; to the Congress, to us the American people, and so they feel that they above the law.

Spoiled. That's all it's about - can't live without this, can't live without that. You can live without anything you weren't born with, and you can make it through on even half of that.

That's one of the privileges of old age - you can give plenty of advice 'cause most folks think that's all you got left anyway.

Self-consciousness is really a form of egotism.

Not only is your story worth telling, but it can be told in words so painstakingly eloquent that it becomes a song.

A myth is more powerful - and more lasting - than reality.