Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives... and to the "good life", whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.

The room was very quiet. I walked over to the TV set and turned it on to a dead channel-white noise at maximum decibels, a fine sound for sleeping, a powerful continuous hiss to drown out everything strange.

Smart people understand that there is no such thing as paranoia. It is just another mask for ignorance.

I didn't know Johnny Depp could act until he played me.

It was one of those fine little love stories that can make you smile in your sleep at night.

But our trip was different. It was a classic affirmation of everything right and true and decent in the national character. It was a gross, physical salute to the fantastic possibilities of life in this country-but only for those with true grit. And we were chock full of that.

Things are no longer what they seem to be. My telephones are haunted, and animals whisper at me from unseen places.